Tears Of Joy
by obsessionpersonified
Summary: I saw PotO For the second time today and I noticed how much Meg has to do with him. Always screaming and gasping and moaning his name... oh well. not the latter I guess, but she does scream a lot.
1. So it begins I guess

REVISION I reput this up after checking it over. JUST A QUICK REMINDER This is when Christine and Meg are fifteen, the Phantom twenty. After setting the scene and developing the connection I'l skip ahead to the PotO timeline...has anyone else noticed that when writing PotO that way its almost like PotC? (Pirates of the Carribean?) OH! The Phantom as a PIRATE!

What I would give to plunder THAT booty.

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING!

Authors note: I saw PotO For the second time today and I noticed how much Meg has to do with him. Always screaming and gasping and moaning his name... oh well. not the latter I guess, but she does scream a lot. While watching Eriks face after Christine kissed him I tried to figure out how to make it happy tears he cried istead. I found it! Wohoo!

Oh yea, I dont have spell check...bear with me. Also too imapatien for betas.

Meg Giry wasn't a bad girl. By every means the contrary, in fact. She was a very good girl. But sometimes it seemed, while listening to Christine sing to her Angel at the back of the ballet routine's group, she had rather un-good girlish thoughts. Like how juvinial Christine was, how stuck up she appeared to be, and wondering if Christine was 'all right' in the head. She was so innocent sometimes, like she was still a child of twelve when she was a girl of fifteen. Meg had heard of illness's like that, a person still a child in their mind. Maybe Christine contracted it after her father died. Sometimes hardship like that could do something to people. Scar them on the inside.

Those were also thoughts she shouldn't be having. Not that they were bad, but, as her mother said, too insightful for Meg to be having. Meg saw people as they were meant to be seen, emotional scars and all. Like the solemn Lisa, another ballarina-in-training. Her fiance was killed three years ago and Lisa raped by the three men that did it. An ugly stain covered her being, invisable to the eye. It was red-brown, with small purple spots, like a bruise. As if she blamed herself for the murder and her raped. Meg truly pitied her. Gretchin on the other had was no one to be pitied. Hers was bright blue, bold fierce red in it. No idescision of purple or shades or tints of the blue and red. Gretchin had done something terrible, planned and went through with something that Meg didn't want to find out.

Madam Giry (She insisted to be called, even by her daughter) finished the act and sent them on their ways. Meg was sure her mother had stains, scars marring her, but Madam Giry refused to let them out for a second. Meg watched the group scamper off, her mother-in-question watching Christine Daae practically run away, her face drawn in shadow and sadness. Then it was gone, as Christine's skirts cleared the corner. Madam Giry gave Meg a nod, before limping back to the room.

Meg didn't bother to follow Christine. She had begged her after her first months here not to watch her as she prayed for her father. Meg guessed somethings were too personal. Not that she was jealous... oh Hell. She was jealous. Meg looked around quickly, as if someone could read the un-lady like curse in her mind. She giggled to find no one. Meg realized she had wandered away from the main back-stage was was now continuing into the unused places of the Opera Populair. After a moment of indecision she continued. There was nothing down here except spiders, rat and the occasional snake.

And birds, Meg added watching an owl swoop by. It did a quick about-face and snatched up a rat. Meg saluted the Owl, which stared at her for a moment.

"That you for your studious attentions. I rather dislike rats." Meg said cheerfully to the barn owl. He gave a screechy noice and dissapeared. "So much for gratitude."

The first door she took led to a corridor, lined with cob-webs and unlit candelbras. Meg took it, her mind slipping over one subject to another with ease, solving a problem here, fixing a cunnundrum there. The second door led to a crawl space, Meg slipped to her hands and knees, going over costume designs in her head. This was probably why she didn't notice the weakened floor-boards until she fell through them. With a scream that came out an undignified squeal, she fell. Two more small floors gave way beneath her slight weight before she stopped.

Breath knocked out of her, covering in dust and spider-webs, knee skinned, bruised, cut, bleeding and splintered she first lay eyes on the Phantom of the Opera.

If she'd have been able to scream she would have. Luckily her breath was still two floors up. Even more fortunate she didn't scream her way down and the trip was surprisingly quiet. She saw him through the opening between the two floors, obviously invisable to him. The Phantom, wearing expensive black formals, (coat, vest, ascot, gloves, shiny shoes, rapier, and a long black cloak) was surprisingly comfortable looking. He sat back against the stone, right next to a long mirror looking thing, one knee bent the other straight out. His head was against and a bone-white half-mask covered the right side of his face.

After her breath caught up and calmed down Meg could hear singing. More surprising it was Christine! The child-like voice pierced the air sweetly, shocking Meg more. Meg's own voice was huskier, ever since three years ago when she was twelve. She had to strain her voice to get a sweet falsetto that everyone craved from woman. Afterward she felt dirty, not using her own voice.

Meg almost fell over when the Phantom began to sing. His voice, try as he might, was still dark and rich and exotic as the chocolate Mother had gotten for her from Paris. He kept it light and soft to disguise the dark beauty. Then it came to her.

Christine's Angel Of Music! It was the Phantom! She used the excused to pray for her father to sing with her Angel! Oh! Christine must be so innocent to believe that that voice was that of an Angel. A fallen angel maybe. A dark seductive demon sent to seduce woman's souls right from their willing

bodies-

Okay. She really had to stop reading those penny-novels from the bookshop.

They continued to sing for about ten minutes more, before the Phantom said goodnight. Unbidden a shiver went through Megs body. Not at all caused by the cold stone at her thighs. He rose, tall and strong, stretched and smiled before walking down the hidden passage.

Meg wasn't going to follow him. Nope. Not at all. Why follow one of the Opera's most mystic secrets?

Then again, the only way back would be to go through the mirror-looking thing. And Christine might be there. It would be cruel to ruin Christine's delusions now, wouldn't it?

Concious reassured, or at least temporarily pacified, Meg found she could crawl along the wall until it came to a certain point where she could stand. Keeping the Phantom at least five-feet in front of her, Meg made her way down. He went out a door onto a huge set of spiral stairs. Meg waited for five minutes, anxiously shifting from one foot to another, until she was sure he was passed. Then she came out. She watched him move oddly. Left and right, weaving in a pattern that had no rhyme, no pattern to the pattern. After he was out of sight she causously stepped down with one foot-

-only to jerk it back up as the floor fell from beneath her ballet-slippered toes.

There was no way she could figure this out! The Phantom's own footsteps were assured, he must have mapped this out over the years. Going up would be a problem as well, and the door to the passage was blocked!

"Damn!" Meg hissed, deeming the situation bad enough for the forbidden word. It seemed to work, as it made her bolder, more confident. She looked at the hand-rail to the stairs in a new light. It was a good two feet of stone wide, obviously solid, (The phantom held on all the way down) and it might work. It was better then nothing.

Meg suddenly remembered she was still in costume. Which included a small two foot square cape!Undoing the button, Meg set it on the stairrail, settled in, lifted the front. The cape being silk made the slide easiter, faster, if a bit more nerve racking. Heart in her throat Meg slowly relaxed, then tension in her changing from fear to exhileration. She was going fast as a horse at full gallop! An insane smile that reminded her of how a cheshire cat (From her favorite stories) smiled lit her face and spiraled down and down and down...

-Wait a minute. When did this thing actually end? What if he used another passage, one she passed? Meg despretly tried to look back. studyign the walls. Was that one? If she lost him she could wander around the catacombs forever. People had been found crazy, half alive after weeks of being lost. Meg felt icy terror fill her, so busy studying the scenery that she didn't notice the abrupt change.

Mainly being the end of the stairs.

Meg went flying, twisting and landing on her fifteen year old backside with an 'Oof'. Screwing her eyes up in pain, Meg bit her lip and tried to stop herself for crying out. A cold touch under her chin brought her face to look-

- At her prey. And suddenly Meg felt like that mouse the great big scary owl ate. The Phantom raising his visable brow used the cane to turn her face more toward him. He smiled slightly.

"I had thought it would be Joseph, he's getting to be rather nosy. But no... Madam Giry's daughter? What brings you to the Phantom's lair?" His voice (Oh dear lord that voice) mocked her.

"I-I-I-"

"You, you, you...?" He encouraged, smirking at her fear.

"I-I was wandering. Fell. Saw you walking away." She let out a nervous laugh. "-guess I was curious."

"Indeed." He slowly tilted his head to the side, appraising her. Then- "Your Christine's friend, arn't you?"

"Sometimes." Meg replied, moistening her lips.

"I thought it was more then sometimes." He removed the cane and leaned indulgently on it. As if she were a little girl and he a man grown who already knew all the answers.

"Well it is...most of the time." Meg swallowed, when suddenly it burst out- "Sometimes shes blank... like a doll. A blank canvas and no matter what color you use its all white. It scares me sometimes then I think..."

"Yes?" he leaned forward, as if intreaged. Meg realized that was a decidedly good thing, she obviously wasn't dead yet, so she continued.

"That shes not really growing up. Sometimes it seems like she's not real." Meg swallowed again and asked herself, hysterically almost, what she thought she was doing.

_Telling the Phantom of the Opera about my worries about Christine's realness, what else? _

Good. Just checking.

"It seems so, sometimes." He said almost as if to himself. Then reached down and offered her a hand. Meg took it unquestioning, and he helped her up. Megs gaze was drawn the the beautiful paintings and sketches that adorned the walls of his corridor. Most of them were of ballet, some practising, some of the shows and all were extrodinaryily beautiful. Most were signed at the bottom, 'Erik'.

"Curiouser and Curiouser." She whispered, letting her hand glide over the obviously recent portraits.

"Deeper into the rabbit hole, Alice? Or would you rather-" The Phantom pushed a passage open and cocked his head "-follow the breadcrumbs home?"

Meg bit her lip. Then she walked toward the passage.

:To Be Continued

(JUST KIDDING! Gotcha! I wonder if some people pushed back without scrolling down all the way. Oh well. Their loss.)

'Can't believe it' Meg thought furiously. 'Can't believe Im following a ghost down deeper into the vaults of an Opera House.'

"Ah!" Meg yelped, slipping on a wet patch. The Phantom's leather clad hand stopped her fall (The third one in the past two hours thank-you-very-much) and steadied her. Meg blushed a little, grateful for the darkness. He chuckled, the sound practically vibrating as if he knew her thoughts. Damn the stupid Mind-reading Phantom. Meg wrinkled her nose and thought nasty thoughts at him. He didn't break stride, but better safe than sorry.

(PotO POV)

'Can't believe the little snippet actually came!' Erik thought, pushing a few cobwebs out of his way. He had forgone the torch in favor of a more speedy trip. A yelp sounded and only his quick reflexes kept the poor chit from landing flat on her pert bottom. From the look of her it wouldn't be the first time today. Eric chuckled at that. The girl stiffened, thinking his laughed was at her expense... Well... It was, wasn't it? He kept an unreasonably possesive grip on her elbow, bringing her closer to his side. Madam Giry would skin him alive it anything happened to her Nutmeg.

"Here." Erik put his hands on her waist, noting the shiver (Which wasn't of disgust) and lifted her acrossed a small river to the other side. There was another route, one by boat, but he didn't want to put in the effort.

"Thank you." Was that his overactive post teen imagination (He was only just twenty) or was her voice huskier than normal? He resumed his grip on her elbow, now out of habit.

"Here we are, as deep as the rabbit hole is open to you, Alice. At least for today " He said as they entered a dry room. His pipe-organ dominated one side of the room (One of five he had all together) two desks and misallanious chairs and cusions, all half covered with half-done sketches, fully donw designs, and sheets and sheets of music. Meg moved slowly away from him, eyes trying and failing to see all there was to see in the shortest time possible.

Erik found a seat at the organ, watching her through slitted eyes as she read and looked over his work. It was all safe things, archetype designs he was done with, pre-Christine music. None of the slow seductive sensual notes that poured out of his being now. She paused over this and that, setting somethings aside for closer inspection later. She traced the lines on his sketches, smiling or frowning at this and that. Actually laughing at a litlle doodle of her mother glaring out of the picture, soaking wet.

"I remember this! That was when we dumped the bowl on Carlotta but she moved and Madam Giry got in the way!" Meg exclaimed. Her voice... Erik turned to the organ and played a small ditty that he wrote about Meg when she was fourteen and she kissed a stable-lad in the balcony seats, then punched him. The notes were perfect for her voice at the time, and she hadn't changed, he would have noticed... Her voice was much lower now, the husky tone peeking out earlier come in full bloom.

"Your voice..." Erik said, slightly confused. Meg bit her lip before shrugging.

"Cats outta the bag." She said with forced casualness. "I talk and sing higher to fit in with the supranos more. My voice is too low for most of the chorus."

"Indeed?" Erik pursed his lips and turned to the organ, playing the scale.

"What?" Meg asked warily. He pierced her with supremly over-perceptive eyes.

"Sing for me."

To be continued (For real this time. Im so tired!)

PLEASE READ ! IMPORTANT! DON"T YOU SCROLL DOWN! LISTEN TO THE CAPS LOCK AND OBEY! Thank you Anounomous! I forgot about the K thing. Anyway, About the Disney thing, I'm trying to put references into as many disney or other movies as I can, just as an extra challenge. It seems my muse has fosaken me, so I had to hunt for a new one and this one didn't want me to continue with the 'Younger generation' Possibly I might go back and add later, or restart a new story, but never fear! I intend to keep this one up, only now we'll use the Awesome powers of the Autherness and skip ahead to right after 'Think of Me'

DISCLAIMER:As always Hollilia incorperated does not own anything except dirty fantasies about Jareth, Spike, Erik, Jason Isaacs, johnny Depp, Jack Sparrow- Lets just cut to the chase. If not we may be here forever.

(Basically what has happened over the past four years is that Meg has been also taking lessons, but with the Phantom and no odd delusions about freakin angels and music. Erik has yet to show her his face, but doesn't try to be anything else than the dark seductive creature he is around her. He also didn't mention outright his love for Christine, and Meg has realized she was in Love with him ages ago, but desides to be a martyr and not tell him. Mainly fearing he would laugh, scoff and/or never let her see him again. She isn't dense though and she does notice his feelings for Christine. He also has let her see his new music and helps her with her dance lessons! I'll even tell you one of the sex scenes. Its when Erik is showing her the dance solo she's supposed to do for Don Jaun. Will there be one before that? Well... you'll just have to read wont you?)

Meg couldn't wait to tell Erik. She had performed her ballet so well her mother had actually told her she did good! All she ever used to get from her mother was a pat on the head and a condiscending lecture! Practically skipping down the conplicated pattern of steps, Meg found her way to the first chamber. It was a 'Throne to Music' or thats what Erik called it. He wasn't in any of the rooms, even though Meg called to him. Frowning she decided to wait for him.

Meg awoke half an hour later to...singing? The Phantom's luscious baritone mixing with-

Good god!

Meg leapt off the Organ she was dozing on and hid under the tablecloth. Erik and Christine were singing a duet, coasting down the flooded chambers in the boat Erik had previously told her was broken. Meg was awed and not just a little intimidated by their combined voices. It was insane how they became one, almost as if their voices were made for one another. Meg knew Erik loved Christine, but soulmates?

Her entire world shattered before her eyes as Erik showed Christine the manniqan. Knowing him as she did, Meg immediantly saw this as his proposal for Marraige, which it was. Christine fainted, probably because Erik's magic (Which astounded Meg when she first met him) was potent enough when he was just physically present. Singing and emotion took it higher. He lifted her off her feet and onto a swan bed covered in crushed red velvet, pulling a cord to allow the black lace curtains to drift down. He strode toward her, sitting on the seat directly in front of Meg.

"What are you doing here?" He asked quietly. Meg steeled herself to keep from crying and put an innocent mask on her face. She then slid out and shrugged.

"I did very well on my ballet solo, even though it was small. I came to tell you mother actually aplauded me." Meg gave him a forced smile and turned to walk away. "I can see your busy, I'll come back later. "

"Wait-" Erik held her wrist and Meg tried to ignore the frission of heat the movement created. She plastered a blank expression on her face and turned.

"Yes?"

"We need to work on your aria. The one from The Goblin Ball MADE UP OPERA THAT SUPPOSEDLY HE CREATED

"Actually, I have got a lot to do, maybe tommarow." Meg tugged her hand to get it back, but Erik just stood.

"I will not lose you over this." He said sternly. A bubble of hope rose in her mind "Your friendship means the world to me."

POP The bubble burst into ragged glass shards. Meg couldn't hold in the half-hysterical laugh.

"Okay, you wont." She meant it. Even if she never saw him again he would always be her dearest friend. Because that would always be all he let her be to him.

"Meg." He said warningly. Meg turned to face him and found herself not two inches from the famous mask of white. They froze. Throughout their friendship there had been moments like this. When sexual tension would frazzle her nerves, when his frustrations with the lack of physical relationship and they would be caught in time like this, so close to losing everything.

She couldn't help it. She may be a fool. A stupid naive fool, but she would not let this moment be lost in muffled apologies and akward silences after their gaze was broken. It was a simple matter to make the brush of their lips seem innocent, a mistep on her part, a accident on his.

There was nothing simple about what happened next.

They weren't sure who moved first but suddenly Megs arms were around his neck, his around her waist, her body crushed to his, their lips melded and there was no place she would rather be. The kiss was wild, no innocence, no regrets, just a passionate melding of two people, one so lost to his obsession he couldn't find himself, the other so lost to her insecuirity she didnt want to. They couldn't get close enough, couldn't touch enough, couldn't feel enough. There was music in their ears, crescendoing, rising falling with their gasped breaths, their labored moans.

Erik lifted her onto his organ Okay sorry for the interuption, but Im talking about the piano! PIANO! Gutter-minded bastards ;) , luckily the cover was down,LOL HYSTERICALLY and pulled her legs around his hips. He moved toward her, her breathy gasp urging him to move closer, shift his hips into the apex of her thighs, feast on her neck. Her husky pleas were the sweetest music he heard, his thrumming heartbeat providing a faster rythem. It was excuisite, her warm, lush, nubile body pressed to his, ample bosom crushed to his chest. Erik slid his hands to the flare of her hips, moving them in tune with his. Their gazes locked as his hand wound in her hair, his lips returning to hers to plunder the treasure there.

A soft sigh echoed through the room with the effect of thunder. The pair jerked apart, Erik still holding her hair with one hand and... wait a minute. How did his hand slip under her shirt to take such a possesive hold on her...? Meg looked over to see Christine stir, stretching with catlike grace. She paniced and within seconds was running up the stairs, only saving herself from falling into a trap by the ingrained pattern Erik had taught her ages ago.

He watched a little dazedly as the willing blonde beauty took off, her lips bee-stung from his kisses, her face flushed form pleasure that HE gave her. Erik wondered why she ran and what would be the easiest way to catch her when another sigh came from the room beyond.

Unfaithful love! How could he have forgotten Christine! She merely shifted in her sleep, but Erik sank down onto the chair. What had come over him? He would have taken Meg right here, in the mmidst of his seduction of Christine. Had he sunk so low in his monstrocity that he could forsake his one and only true love? A couple notes wafted to him and he turned to see Christine watching him. He moved his gaze back to his work, unable to look at her.

Soft warm hands touched his face, caressing and he closed his eyes and saw...

Meg.

Suddenly his face felt cold and the Meg in his mind cringed with Horror.

"Oh it was terrible Meg! He was a beast, a monster, and not just his face! His temper. I thought I would be devoured right then and there by it!" Christin sobbed into Meg's shoulder. Meg did her best to calm her, inwardly seething. How dare Christine even assume to take off Erik's mask. Had the girl no sense of decorum, no decency? If a man wears a mask he wants to hide his face. Who was she to deny him that?

"Its alright." was all Meg could say, before Madam Giry came into the room and swept Christine away. Her Mother gave Meg a stern look, as if to say Speak-of-this-to-no-one. Like she would. Meg turned and headed toward the costume manager, to see about her maid's outfit. She was supposed to do a fitting. She walked down the corridor that led to the boxes, going over what Christine said in her mind.

If Erik was disfigured, that would explain his loathing for society. It was uncommon to be born with a defect and live beyond the age of two. If your parents and village didn't kill you, usually nature did. Any who did live were freaks, sentenced to forever be sideshow amusment for 'normal people'. Meg wished with all her soul that Eric had not been subject to the whims of cruelty for long. He was such a stong man, but his emotions were very topsy-turvy. Mood swings some might say, the littlest thing could set him off.

With a yelp she was uncerimoniously jerked into a curtianed-over aclove and pressed against the wall. She opened her mouth to scream, and then realized she knew the body.

"Erik!" She whispered, looking up at him. Erik sneered at her, causing her confusion.

"Did she tell you? Describe me in all my 'glory'?" Erik snarled, fingers bruising on her arms. Meg looked shocked. "Did she? Of course she did. Spilt her weeping heart for you. Crying into your arms about the demon that stole her from her bed. "

"Erik!" Meg shifted her arms. "Your hurting me."

"Isnt that what demons do? What monsters do? Im only obeying my nature!" He growled, before capturing her mouth. His teeth tore into her lip, casing to to bleed at he ravaged her. A shaking hand was lifted to cup her heaving breast, another to caress her bottom. His minstrations slowed, becoming more of passion and less of loathing and Meg couldn't help but respond. With a gaspy moan she lifted herself on her toes and pressed herself deeper into his arms, obeying his command to lift her leg onto his hip when he slid his hand under it.

Erik let out a shaky groan. She felt so right in his arms. Impossibly right. Flicking his thumb over her nipple, he caught her gasp of pleasure with his kiss, then began moving his hips thrustingly against hers. With every slight shift she moaned and cried out softly into his mouth, muffled cries of ecstacy. Her heat burned through the clothes and on instinct he slipped his hand from its death-grip on her thigh to the waist band of her breeches.

Erik was not virgin, in fact, he had many woman. In the darknest of night, the highest paid corteasans taught him all he could do with his love and he used that knoledge to his advantage now. Blunt piano fingers slipped passed her undergarments, to the flower of her fememninity. She was wet, his fingers sliding in easily. Hot and tight, the pearl of her pleasure budding against his eager fingers. He played her like an insterment, and the Phantom of the Opera was a VERY good musician. One particularly loud cry of intense pleasure sounded as he twisted and bent artful digits inside of her.

Erik watched her through a hazy of lust, her head thrown back, golden curls tumbling down, smooth column of her neck bared to him, bountiful breasts casped in one hand, also adding to the pleasure. Her rosy lips were parted, her eyes closed. His erection was pressed painfully against his breeches, he had to have some relief, his mind thought frantically. Pleasuring Meg was killing him in the most delectable way.

"Meg." He whispered huskily. She met his eyes with blue-grey ones clouded with pleasure. She was near to her peak, feeling wave upon wave build up to something she couldn't name. she would have done anything to reach that edge. He used his unoccupied hand to bring hers down the the shaft of him. Meg was still a virgin, he could feel that in her tightness, but he knew living in an Opera house, no the most reputible place, would have at least prepared her for this by word of mouth.

Wonderful sensation began, her lean fingers playing gently over him, softly at first, until she realized the fast she moved the faster HE moved, or at least his hand. She conquered the clasp to his breeches, pulling his length out and taking it completly in her hand. Erik let out a cry as she moved him out, anything she did brought color to his closed eyes, so intense the ecstacy, the sheer feeling. They moved together, eyes locking as they fell over the edge, Erik with a soft moan and Meg with a sharp keen cry.

Laguidly Erik straightened his clothes and hers, holding her to him as she came down. Her hair tousled, her eyes dulled with pleasure she focased on him. Erik found himself yet again realizing his mistake, but instead of immediently pulling away from the temptress, he found himself pressing a kiss to her forehead and dissappearing.

When Meg caught her breath she finished cleaning herself up and walked on shaky legs out of the aclove. She didn't know what game Erik was palying, but she knew it was extremly dangerous and with a heavy heart she also knew his feelings hadn't changed. She walked a little ways.

"Whore."

"What!" Meg turned to see Joseph leaning against a post behind her, directly acrossed from the aclove where she had just exited.

"I heard you in there. I don't know who you wer with, but hows about another go? Surly one man can't satisfy one such as you?" Joseph came closer, making a grab for her large breasts. Meg moved away shocked.

"Get away from me Sir. I don't know what your speaking of. " She said sternly, trying to imitate her mother. Joseph scoffed, licking his dirty lips and crudly grabbing himself

"Oh don't be such a priss. Cummon Missy. Lets have a little fun." Joseph reached out to grab her again, right where Erik had left bruises from his emotion. The pain was sharp and Meg cried out as he pulled her to his fat dirty body.

"Let me go!" She cried, twisting and trying to break free. Joseph only laughed and began groping her bottom and breasts, leaving painful bruises and ignoring her weeping.

Without warning a roar filled the corridor. Joseph backed off, but kept a hand on her arm. Out of no where Erik appeared, dark eyes wild with rage. He practically threw Joseph acrossed the hall growling and snarling like a lion king. He unsheathed his rapier and had every intention of slicing Joseph to ribbons when he heard the weeping. Meg was curled up, hugging her body close. His distraction let Joseph escape, but right now Erik didn't care. He bent down and gently lifted the girl in his arms, bringing her with him to his rooms.

The Phantom of the Opera pacified his rage with a promise that night. Joseph Bouq'e would die, and he would be the one to wrap the rope around his neck.

AN: Hello all, miss me? I know some of you are only trying to help, but Im gonna say this one more time. I have a wordpad, and no spellchecker. Nada. Zip. My Spell checker is null and void. I know your just offering constructive critism, but cummon, three or four people in a row join together and become destructive. I'll review my work and try harder, but thats about all I can do until I find a beta.

I make stupid mistakes, but cummon, I'm no super-genius archetect, organ-playing musician like SOME people I could speak of...

COUGH COUGH ERIK COUGH COUGH

Oh yea, I just figured out something! Gerard Butler Waits for the screaming fangirls to stop their high-pitched screeching Thank you. Anyway, I figured out that my FAVORITE Dracula (I disclaim by the way.) actor is guess who! GERARD BUTLER! I actually screamed. So now my fantasies of Dracula are filled with that GLORIOUS VOICE! Quickly dies of happiness, liquifying into a puddle on the floor.

"Did I not instruct that this chapter should be done by five?"

Hollilia suddenly reforms into solid mass and stares about wild-eyed

"Actually, I kinda forgot to give her the letter." Madam Giry says, appearing out of nowhere-ness (Where author notes come from by the by)

"Oh, well then. I want this Chapter done by five" The phantom appears and gives the girl a seductive once over (I mean seriously, can he do anything nonseductive? Its perfectly impossible) Hollilia trembles as he dissappears taking Madam Giry with him.

Well Stands shakily and dusts herself off Nothing like a visit from the sexiest guy in the Screen to get you moving.

"What about us?" Dracula and Spike say together. Hollilia melts.

And now, on with the Show!

The Phantom was shirtless.

Oh my.

There he was, on his back, in a COFFIN no less. Half-naked. Oh my. I mean who sleeps in a coffin? Meg asked herself. With that lucious tanned skin all open and exposed and... Meg! Control yourself! Again she questioned the coffin. Like a seductive vampire out for nubile young woman's blood. Bend you back, bare your neck and slip silky fangs deep inside and-

-really got to stop reading those penny-novels. She took in a shaky breath and slowly stepped away. She woke up to find herself in a bedroom, her body covered in a deliciously soft cotton feather down quilt (Sorry, but the swan bed is soooooo cheesy) and went to find Erik. But he was sleeping so...

"Your awake." The statment was husky from sleep and Meg barely controlled her trembling. His VOICE. It always took her by surprise. Like that first taste of whiskey. After a while you got used to it but if you took a break it hit you like a ton of bricks in the next sip.

"Yes." Meg watched him hungrily as he turned away to slip on a ruffled shirt. The waist coat quickly followed, but unfortunatly for her he decided against the full ensemble. The more layers between her and that Adonis body the better, she thought. He turned back, and for the first time Meg studied the mask. He never took it off. But that vein of thought brought to mind Christine, her terrible actions of the other night and the fact that Erik loved her even more for it. Which brought to mind what HE did after Christine came home.

Meg trembled, remembering the all consuming pleasure of that wanton act.

"Your cold." He stated, blissfully unaware of her train of thought. Meg nodded. Erik brought a quilted silk (yes, there is such a thing, I've seen it) kimono-like robe and started toward her. The first touch of his ungloved hand on her skin caused her to gasp. He quickly release the profered robe and turned away.

"I'm sorry-" She began but her made a quick angry slicing motion with his hand, still turned away.

"No, its my fault. Had I been in control that Bastard would never have made you shy away from any man's touch" Erik cut in, his voice thick with anger. Meg opened her mouth to tell him it was his overwhelming carnal appeal that made her jump, not disgust or fear, but thought better of it. If he would stop their downward spiral of madness with his completly mistaken thoughts than possibly she might escape from this unrequited love with at least a modicum of sanity and possibly her soul. She took the robe and slipped it on, the cool layers warming and helping her retain heat in the less-than-summery temperature to his caves.

"Erik...Can I go home?" She asked in a small voice. Joseph's actions could rend and tear her body, but the time she spent with Erik would rape her soul.

-(This loopy thing is what I made up to signify my laziness! Either a POV change or just the speeding up of a few hours when I can't write anymore in a perticular situations. Behold my all consuming laziness. I SAID BEHOLD!)

(By the by, this is during the Poor fool he makes me laugh Songy thing. )

Erik watched from above, angry at the managers for ignoring his demands, furious at Christine for not forcing the issue and completly raging as the main Alto pinched Meg's bottom for real. He noticed, with relief, that Piangi refrained from groping Christine. When He went for Meg again Erik could not stop himself.

"Did I not instruct, that box five be left empty for me?" He asked, throwing his voice around the room. Their were gasps, Christine got an odd look on her face as Meg went white and held onto her arm. Why was she so afraid of him?

"Its him." Christine whispered and Erik realized the usually naive Christine had put two and two together, added an angel, a man and a phantom and figured him out. The fact that it didn't upset him as much as it should was pushed aside as Carlotta began croaking. She must have taken a couple sprays in between. Erik let a malicious smile cross his face as he looked up... to see Joseph staring down at him.

The smile grew to a grotesque travesty of a smirk as his eyes turned to ice. Time to fulfill a promise he made to himself.

(I'll spare you the details for you who havn't seen PotO the movie, shame on you, Joseph gets hanged)

Meg didn't need to know what happened. The glow on both Christines and the handsome Rauol's face spoke plainly. Erik knew, for certain. He knew everything. He would be furious.

Meg quickly went to her room. She began throwing things in her pack, dresses and under-things and such. A rather large pocket purse followed and a couple smaller wer hidden in her bodice, skirt and pocket. You never could be too carefull in France.

She certainly knew that Erik would never harm her on purpose, not in his right mind he wouldn't. But Everytime he slipped into that frighteningly seductive abyss, whenever someone displeased him, he was a different creature entirely. The Creature who cause the all-comsuming passion that had terrified Meg. How could one man cause such an explosion of feeling inside-

-how could she let him?

As she frantically pulled the straps acrossed and ran into the hall. Practically running, she came to her mother.

'She knows.' Meg thought, seeing the sadness in her mothers gaze and for the first time seeing the fierce love for the man who took her, then left her and with him had taken her mother's soul. Meg sobbed, shoving past the elder Giry. Was this her fate? To become a shell, used at Erik's whim? To be tossed aside whenever Christine beconed for her Angel?

Madam Giry watched her young daughter run, her steel grey eyes filling with tears, a hand at her throat.

"Do you know what you've done to my baby, Erik?" She soflty asked the shadow that appeared beside her.

"It was her who planted this need inside of me. HER who made me lose control. It will be HER who pays the price for arousing a demon." A voice whispered, filled with hate and self-contempt. Madam Giry raised her eyes and for the first time since she met him, looking into this intense gaze. With the flap of his cloak he dissappeared, unnerved by the raw unexplainable emotion in her eyes. Madam Giry turned back to the hall which her daughter dissappeared down.

"You've made her become me." She whispered, before falling to her knees, waves of emotion choking her throat. Tears fell silently down her face, as she prayed. "May god have mercy on your soul My Nutmeg. As he refused to have on mine."

(Just a note. NO THE PHANTOM IS NOT HER FATHER! I've had a couple people who read this ask me that. Ugh. That was rather sad, at least the ending, but thats about as sad as I get. I try not to get sappy either. True love isn't said with words. what comes next? Well what do you think the Phantom was doing those three months? Chasing Meg all over Europe thats what! where should they go first? Oh yea, Reviews make my fingers go faster. Please review. I know your readin this. I CAN SEE THE HITS READ AND REVIEW PLEASE... I'll send you chocolate covered Erik...)

Hideehodi people-of-the-fan-fic, Miss me? Well, this is new. I went to bed after writing my last chapter and woke up to scan my measly reviews, No help from any of you, except, of course those who review ;) And was suddenly inspired! You do know what that means right? My newish muse wacked me on the head with a 2 by 4! And now I'm full of ideas! And a slight concussion. Oh, by the by, would you like to meet my muse?

Oh Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed!

A giant seven and a half foot tall Scottish barbarian with wild red hair and smoldering golden eyes appears. He wears a billowy white poet shirt and tight black breeches with knee-high leather boots and gloves and a humungus sword at his hip, engraved upon its blade 'Merciful Death; how you love your precious prey'. He grins

This is Red. Red? This is my audience.

"Their not much to look at, lass."

Ahem, uh... Wacks Red he doesn't mean that. So... read and review... Oh yea, try to guess my age. Im serious. Kudos to those who do... and the whole 'penny-novel' thing? They've been sent from England, as was their name. They're not native to France. Loopholes! Gotta love them! Oh, yea, before I forget and get flamed.

The places they visit will come from the fictional England in my mind. Unlike other talented writers, I'm not into historical nonsense...I had enough of that in high-school american studies class. So you wont find the places they go on a map, unless you make a brand new map of the world and include them. And if you do that...could you wipe out Greenland? Please? (J/K) No offense to those from Greenland...but we'll make you a new Islandy thing! One without the glacier.

Oh yea, Erik has LOADS of money and a couple titles. Where he got them? Well, you cna't expect him to get such a great tan under the stage lights do you? I guessing the portrayal of Erik in my mind sold somethings (Aka, old props, buried treasure from under the Opera house, some of his archetypal work, some Operas,) No to mention the twenty thousand fracs a month from the manager.

Another plus to being an author! I know normally back then it took ages to get anywhere, but here in this fanfic they get there in a second! (I still need to put in their confrontation, get her home with Erik, and write the play, not to mention the already mentioned 'Don Juan solo-turned-duo' thing.

This authors note is gonna be longer than the actual fanfiction! I forgot to inform you I might give Erik some competition...in the form of a handsome, sweet, charming (Not-quite-as-innocent-as-Raoul) Duke! What do you think? I'll Introduce him in this chapter, but save final judgement for you to decide.

And now... on with the show!

God I love saying that.

(Oh Yes, I discalim any and all references to anything not mine...which is everything!)

Meg stared out the carraige window. It had been three days since she fled from the Opera house. Three days since she saw Erik. Three whole days since she saw anything familiar. She was in England, traveling to a friend's house in the middle of Bracas, a small town aways from London a bit. And she had never felt more lost.

It certainly gave you time to think, these rides. And Meg had thought. A lot. About her mother, her absentee Father, Christine, her fiance', but mostly about Erik. He was never far from her thoughts. Damn him. Meg slammed her hand against the gilded carraige door. Why wouldn't he just leave her alone? He didn't love her, couldn't care for her, and wouldn't even try! Why couldn't he just leave her alone?

-Why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

"My, my, my what has the cat dragged in?" A voice asked dryly as they halted. A shortish busty brunette with auburn streaks in her hair and steel gray eyes raised her eye brows as Meg stumbled out of the carraige. There were circles under her eyes, she was unbearably thin and the steel left the girls gaze.

"Holly" Meg murmurred, before dropping from exaughstion. Holly reached out and caught her, thanks to her days as a wood chopper a year ago, and kept her from becoming a pile of taffeta on the ground.

"Stephanie!" Holly shouted. A ballerina-like figure appeared in the door. Her blue eyes softened and the ash blonde hair was filcked away from her shoulders. Holly nodded sadly. "She's fallen in love."

"Poor girl."

Just a note, yes, that was me, But I'm not in here long, ;)

"-and then they came down the stairs and I just knew, you know? They proclaimed their love for one another and there was no way HE didn't know... So I ran." Meg finished, sipping a cup of fragrant exotic tea. Holly patted her hand comfortingly.

"Would you like me to castrate him?" She asked, only half-jokingly.

"No." Meg gave a little laugh through her tears. "You couldn't get close anyway."

"Just a though, love." Holly replied blithly, grabbing a minni-tart and slipping it to Meg when Stephanie looked away.

"You have any idea what your going to do?" Steph asked, easily stopping Holly's wandering hand from another spoonful of sugar in her tea. Holly pouted.

"I thought, perhaps, stay here?" Meg ventured softly, questioning, pleading.

"No question about it. We wouldn't have it any other way... but are costumes all you have to wear?" Holly curled a lip up in a mock of Scoff.

"No, I have one or two regular dresses..." Meg laughed. Steph shook her head and rung a bell. A tall butler came in a minute later.

"Get a coach ready. We're off to London." Steph said, easily dismissing him.

"Why?" Meg asked bewildered as they slid a mink-fur coat on her.

"To shop, of course." Steph answered as if it were obvious. Holly made a face, slipping into her floor-length leather rather masculine coat.

"I hate shopping."

After a surprisingly terrifying, but amazingly quick drive (Holly took the reigns.) they were there. Holly hopped off the top, assisting the slightly green Meg and the wild-haired Stephanie onto safe ground.

"Told you I could get us here in half the time." She put in proudly, smoothing out her own rats nest. Meg said nothing, holding a hand to her stomach.

"Shut up Holly." Steph made out, before pressing a hand to her lips.

"First stop..." Holly began, looking questioningly at Stephanie.

"Burberta's."

"I hate shopping."

After four hours they were all sitting around a small table, Holly just having come back from dropping off their purchuses in the coach. Meg's head was spinning from the amount of money that had just passed hands, and she was awe-stuct at her new wardrobe.

Twelve long thick satin, silk, velvet dresses, about five corsets, (One wickedly black with matching garters and what Holly called 'fishnets') twenty pairs of gloves, three bonnets, ten what they called plain dresses(Egyption cotton died in greens, blues, reds, yellows, purples with amazing patterns and covered in embriodery) and five shoes. (One pair of Pirate boots that hit the thigh and were only bought on a dare.)Not to mention the tailor-made to-fit-a-woman breeches (Five of those) and about twenty different silk and cotton poet shirts.

"Are we done yet?" Meg asked, a tad bit breathlessly. Their first outfit, a powder blue corsetted dress that fell in graceful fold around her ballarina-like body and uncomfortably (And embarrassingly) pressed her ample bosom into view, was slipped on her immediently. She had rarly worn corsets.

"Oh! Are we?" Holly said, brightening.

"No."

"Damn." Meg and Holly said in unison. Then they giggled.

"Excuse me, My Lady Stephanie?" A voice asked. Meg turned around and her breath caught. A young man, not older than twenty-three, was bowing, bright green eyes focased on her. He had adorably curly hair, and wore a dark blue outfit. Stephanie stood and embraced him, then Holly. Meg followed thier actions, up until the hugging, there she just held out and hand for him to shake.

"Mam'selle" He whispered, locking eyes and pressing a warm kiss to the inside of her gloved palm. Meg bit her lip, then smiled. For the first time, Erik wasn't forefront in her mind and she relaxed.

Holly and Steph noticed the tension was gone from their friend and the gaurded look, even there when they laughed, was less. They smiled and invited their mutual friend for luncheon.

The Phantom of the Opera, watching from a near-by carraige, was less than pleased.

Yea, I know. Im naughty. Anywho... I've decided against the Duke. Although everybody needs a little competition... Erik seems to overreact, doesn't he? Also, its kinda used, the whole two guys trying to get the girl. About that whole Erik against another guy thing... He could win if he tried. I mean, couldn't he have just tried harder to win Christine's heart? If he just, I dunno, took her out to dinner, got her flowers, wooed her with his charisma... It might have been different. Stupid phantoms and their chaos complex. Anywho. I'm kinda all tired of the author note...

I disclaim everything.

On with the show.

The Duke of Lasten asked her for another dance and Meg begged off, only allowed to do so when she laughingly agreed to a dance in a few minutes. She was about ready to collapse, but was happy. Not a I-have-everything-in-the-world-and-I-couldn't-ask-for-more happy, more of a I'm-relativly-content-and-being-treated-nicely-so-Im-gonna-enjoy-it happy. She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she went to sit down.

The dress was deep green silk, with an outer bodice of velvet green. It was off the shoulder, revealing her creamy shoulders and a good deal of the swell of her bosom. It tapered to an point just below her hips, and flared out into alarmingly seductive folds to a small train in the back. The bodice was embroidered with black vines, and her corset's black lace top was visable (Which she was reassured was the latest fasion) Her hair was pulled up in a chigon, with curls of honey blonde caressing her gracefull neck. Her face half covered with a green velvet mask, meant to personify mother nature.

"I've come to collect my dance Mam'selle" The Duke, by name Edward, said, laughingly pulling her to her feet. He was dressed as a Knight-in-shinig-armor.

"I have yet to even begin to rest, my lord." She tried to wheedle out of it, smiling.

"Too bad. I've been deprived of your company for at least three minutes! I find your prescence like a drug. Im happily addicted Im afraid." Edward said blithly, pulled her laughing form onto the dance floor. Meg smiled as they began to dance.

"I don't believe Im familiar with this dance." She said after a minute.

"Its a simple mix between a waltz and a tango." He informed her, dipping the blonde beauty.

"Its a wango?" She asked wryly as he lifted her. Edward tilted his head back and gave a bark of laughter, causing her to smile.

"In a word (literally) Yes." He swept her up, pulling her into the steps. Her feet falling easily into the pattern, she was a ballerina, she descovered she liked the dance. It was formal, without being stuffy, intimate, without being risque. On the final swirl, she was dipped. Coming up, the laughing smile dissappeared from her face when she looked acrossed the ballroom.

There, dressed in the deepest black with the white mask a shock to the backround of his face, was Erik. No, Meg corrected herself. Erik liked her as a friend. Respected her as a performer. This beast was The Phantom. He didn't removed his cloak, instead, used it to his advantage. A couple woman off to the side gasped and fluttered their fans when he smiled at them. The left side of his face was handsome after all. Meg couldn't help the sting of jealousy, but she controlled her gasp and merely gave Edward a smile when he asked if she were okay.

She looked back easily when Edward pulled her into a new position for the next dance. His intense eyes were blazing acrossed the room, locked on the back of Edwards head. He moved them to her and made the unmistakable jerk of his head. He wanted her to come to him. Meg was filled with indecision. Should she go with him, lord knew what awaited her. Should she stay, he might cause a scene, ripping her away from Edward. Then there would be bloodshed, for she knew very well how well Erik could use that blade at his thigh.

Putting on a mask of tiredness, Meg turned to Edward. '

"Could I possibly beg this one off, my lord?" She asked softly. Edward nodde3d, the epitome of concern.

"Of course... And its Edward, my Meg." He smiled down at her, bringing her to a chair nearer to the door.

Sadly the endearment caused little elation. The Phantom had stolen her, spoiled her for anyone. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Meg?" He asked, kneeling beside her. She laughed a little and wiped the tears away with one hand. He handed her a monogrammed 'kerchief. "Here."

"Thank you, Edward. Now go." She shooed him off. "I believe Steph is trying to catch your gaze. "

As soon as he swept the unsuspecting girl into a fox-trot, Meg stood only to be stopped by the hand at her elbow.

"I make no snap decisions Meg, you know that. I'll not be god, I wont judge. Should you need of it, I'll come to our rescue, But remember-" Holly wiped a tear from Meg's eye. "-a week with one you love as much as you do him will break your heart."

"I know-"

"-But... It will give you something to remember him by." Holly gave her a sad smile and Meg wondered why was it that men always seemed to forsake the ones she loved. She nodded, embraced her long-time friend, and walked with at least a small burden lifted from her shoulders. The Phantom lifted his cloak, throwing one half over her shaking shoulders, one lean leather-gloved hand biting into her upper arm.

"We," He whispered huskily into her ear, his voice thick with anger "-need to talk."

Meg's shiver had nothing to do with terror and god damn him he knew it. Erik smirked at her, before pulling her to an ebony carriage.

Erik threw her into the carraige, watching her with hot eyes as she settled herself in. Damn her! She runs away, becomes the goddamned belle of the the ball, makes moon eyes at that English Prat and then sits there like a saint! As if she didn't know that she did something wrong.

"Erik...I'm sorry."

Erik jerked his head to her. Her blue eyes were filling with tears and the beast inside of him calmed every-so-slightly.

"I was frightened. I knew... what Christine did. I knew that you would come to...take your anger out on me like... like you did the last time... and I was terrified." Meg didn't look at him, instead tilting her head back to keep those diamond like tears from falling. She paused, unable to say more due to the lump in her throat. Erik was silent, controling him impulse to pull her into his arms and rock her. Meg was not Christine, she didn't need to be coddled like a child.

He also didn't say anything because she was wrong about the most important thing. He was going to take her, but he had decided that after the aclove incident. It was true, his rage had triggered the reaction to find her and brand her as his and Christine was the cause, but...

His anger was more because, as Christine betrayed him up there on the roof, professing her love to that fop, all he could think about, all that his mind could come up with was one statement that sent him over the edge. The one sentence that scared and enraged him more than anything else could.

All he could think, was... Meg would never do this to me, she loves me too much.

Erik lifted her out of the carraige, his hands caressing her hips a bit too long than was absolutly nessesary, but it got the point acrossed clear enough. Her heart hammering in chest, Meg raised her eyes to his and read the intent there.

Tonight would be the night she would become his.

Tonight, she would lay witht he Phantom of the opera.


	2. Lalalalalalaalala

Please forgive me. Im not good at sex-scenes, but I'll try.

Erik took Meg's hand and led her into the house. He kept his gaze locked on hers, occasionally looking forward to keep them on a straight path. Meg never took her eyes from him. Erik's mind traveled back, when he brought her to the caves not any more than a week ago. When he made the decision that she would be his.

Erik stared down at her, the luscious blonde beauty who was so distracting. Against the back-drop of his green-silk bed-sheets she seemed somehow erotic, wheat-colored hair splayed behind her, skin smooth and honey gold. She was so different than his Chistine, with eyes of blue, and hair of thick mahogany. So much stronger, so much more capable. You couldn't see the delicate Christine smashing a chair to get a big enough club to fight back a wild dog, or practicing until her toes bled and her voice was raw.

Somehow those things seem to come easier to Christine. For the first time in a long time, Erik saw how beauty didn't nessesarily mean a smooth life. Meg was beautiful in the classic, blonde beauty sense, but still she had to work extremly hard in life. All she had to look forward to in life was a career that ended when she was twenty-five, at most, and after that...anything to survive. Be it teaching ballet, sleeping with wealth gentleman, or full-out prostitution.

Why should he deny himself? The thought came suddenly and without warning. Why should he deny himself this creature of light who was; as she showed upstairs; completly willing to lay with a beast...Perfectly willing to give him back something he despretly needed. Erik didn't know quite yet what that something was, but he knew without a doubt that Meg could give it to him. It was something that the highly paid prostitutes couldn't come close to, something he needed before he could completly give himself to the purity of Christine's love.

"I can have you." He told the sleeping form. " I can. Why can't I? You think of me as a man... don't you? I can have you! I will have you."

He took Meg to a room he had prepared before hand, while plotting his revenge. In fact, there on the nightstand; the started written piece of his soul that would end all of this. The room was red, the color Erik found he prefered when his thoughts turned intense, with candles scattered all around and with a giagantic sunken-in bed. It was actually just a ten foot square, just about two feet deep, filled with pillows, silken blankets, velvets, satin, feather-down quilts. All around was a canopy, but made of the thinest silk, golden, so as not to cage him in. The windows, there were five, were shuttered, with thick brocade curtains to block out the hated light; so unkind to Eriks deformity.

Meg's eyes didn't even regester the granduer of the room, her gaze trained only on him. Erik found himself smiling slightly, an entirely new feeling. The only other time he had truly smiled was when he first heard the squeaky suprano of Christine's child-like voice...before the obsession had taken over his mind. Brushing her from his mind, Erik circled Meg's trembling form like a bird of prey. His hands began, of their own accord, to skim the tightened silk around her torso, not touching completly. Meg's eyes shuttered closed for a moment, simply enjoying the feeling, before they opened again, clouded with lust.

Erik positioned himself behind her, slipping his large hands around her small waist. He tilted his head over her shoulder, right above the place where her neck and shoulder met. He felt her shudder, even only touching her with his hands the rest of his body a hairsbreath away. Meg turned her head, ever-so-slightly and let out a bated breath, her moistened lips so close to his. They paused, his dark eyes searching hers, her eyes open, completly without guile. Meg watched as his eyes shuttered closed for a milli-second, before snapping open. One gloved hand captured the vunerable back of her neck and pulled her to him.

Their lips met, closed mouth, once, and eyes staring into one anothers, parted. With a growl that sent waves of incapacitating pleasure down Megs spine he jerked her closer, capturing her lips, bruising them with his kisses. Meg melted, leaning against his lean, hard frame, letting him completly possess her, letting him take over. His other hand, the one not at her neck, slipped and tightened on her hip, pulling her closer against him. Meg lifted a hand and steadied herself, incidently pulling closer to the kiss, by capturing the back of his head.

Erik easily manouvered her around, pressing her front to his. As if to mock him, the thick silk of her gown kept her tantalizing warmth from him. With unsteady fingers he pulled the strings out of the back of the gown, and pulled it down. The ripping sound went unnoticed as she shook it from her arms and it fell to the floor, a puddle that used to be worth more than what she earned in eight month's time. Meg lifted her hands, again to twine about his neck, he gripped her hips tightly and pulled her to him, bruising the flesh there.

Meg played with the back of his hair, sliding one hand to caress his shoulder, back, the left side of his face, anywhere she could reach. Erik, letting out a small chuckle, captured her hand and plundered her mouth. Encouraged by the mews she made, and the arching of her spine, he slid a hand down her back, nipping her bottom lip. She gave a surprised cry and jerked back-

-right into his trap. She fell over his hand and without a fight she was in his arms lifted bridal-style. Erik raised an eyebrown haughtily at her suprised expression. Then he stepped into the sea of pillows and blankets. Gently, softly, he set her down. Meg looked up at him, an unreadable emotion in her eyes. Slowly, she lifted her hand to the right side of his face. Erik froze, but made no move to stop the questing fingers as they traced the edge of the mask, then-

-simply slipped to the back of his neck. She used the leverage to pull herself up and kiss him quietly, a soft smile coming to her lips.

"I trust you Erik. When you want to, you'll show me." She whispered, looking up into his eyes. Erik was dumbstruck for a moment in time, awe-struck at her complete and utter exceptance of what he was right now, not what he might be; under the mask. With a choked sound he crushed her to him, embracing her tightly. He didn't examine the all-consuming emotions that writhed through him at that moment. Was frankly scared to do so. Instead he pulled back and kissed her.

Meg moaned and fell into the kiss, allowing him to arrange her arms, yet again, so trustingly around his neck. He slipped a hand to the back of her neck, fingers tightening as their kiss began to deepen, to build. They danced, they battled, tongue teeth and lips, all physical touch beyond this... pointless. The fire rose, flames dancing higher, and suddenly he had to touch her, to feel that silky skin sink beneath his fingers. Erik lifted a hand to her cheek, sliding down the smooth column of her throat, encouraged by her breathy gasps as his hand found the moudn of her breast.

His fingers flicked, caressed, rolled the supple flesh, until she had abondon his kiss and lay beneath him, moaning for more. Using that hand to hold her limp and writhing form upright, Erik used his other hand on the lonesome flesh on the other side. Meg felt a thousand feelings, a thousand emotions, all boiling down to the simple, uncomplicated fact that this man was the one she wanted to spend her entire life beside, under, above, and behind. She pushed aside the fact that she couldn't have him, he belonged to another. Holly was right. She may not have tommarrow...but she had tonight...

And she had now.

Meg reared up gently, and gave him a mock glare, before nipping his lower lip in a blantant challenge. Abandoning his teasing, Erik slid his hands to her small waist and lifted her body to fit snuggly against his. Meg froze, Erik tensed. The feeling of her warm softness against his hardness all but sent Meg over the edge. He had to stop her from moving, stop that tantalizing writhing before he made a fool of himself.

"Stop." He commanded huskily. Meg stopped her moving, staring helplessly up at him. He made soothing noises, calming her, caressing the side of her face. Slowly she came back to herself, arms wrapped around the very tense Erik. when she was in control, only then, did he allow himself to begin undoing the buttons that lined her front. The corset, he now noticed, was a very naughty black and he made a mental note to enjoy the color against her skin, the very bad girl corset giving her an entirly too appealing and revealing figure in his mind.

But not now. Now he needed to see her, naked and flushed beneath him, waiting for his touch. Waiting for what HE could do to her. Her hands took the job of removing his cape, overcoat and vest, a task he was all too happy to leave to her. Mainly because she took every oportunity to caress and touch the revealed flesh. When he tensed over the thick scars at his back and chest she only clucked her tongue in a frighteningly realistic version of her mother, gave him a grin, and began kissing the marks. He was suddenly very happy he had so many, his fingers forgetting their task momentarily as her hot moist mouth kissed up his chest.

When her talented mouth reached his neck and nipped there gently, he could handle it no more and ripped to corset off her. Meg's eyebrows raised and belatedly he realized he wanted to see her in that.

But oh well. He'd buy her another one. A red one.

Erik looked down at her, but lost his smile. Meg lay on back, hair spread out behind her, cheeks flushed with pleasure, eyes hazy with lust, skin smooth and unblemished, nipples sunset colored and puckered. Drawing in a shaky breath, he traced a hand down her front, between the mounds of her breasts, down to her undergarments. The only thing between him and a complete visual of the blonde beauty. But no worries. They melted away beneath his impatient fingers, shreds falling to collect with the mix of pillows and blankets beneath her. His breath caught.

How had little Nutmeg turned into a goddess? How had he not seen the easily ethereal figure beneath those short delicate costumes? Seen the Wanton beneath the act of innocence, waiting for the right touch.

That mattered naught, for he found her out now. He knew where she was, knew where the secret Divine goddess slept and he would not forget. Megs look became confused, then a little embarrassed. Erik chuckled as she sat up and gently pushed her down.

"You're a goddess. You take my breath away." He reassured her, her eyes finding the truth in his.

"Its hardly fair you know." She said, a tad bit shyly. He raised an eyebrow. Meg shrugged. " Me completly defensless and you only half-dressed."

Letting out a bark of laughter, Erik finished pulling off his ruffled poet shirt, revealiing a chiseled chest and devested himself of his boots, socks and breeches. He rejoined Meg, still blushing, on the bed of silks and velvets. His eyes became serious, and she moistened her lips in anticipation. Erik, a little nervous, although he'd never admit it under pain of torture, slipped a hand between her thighs to test her readiness. Meg, remembering their last little rendevous, closed her eyes and gasped in pleasure as his talented fingers entered her.

Erik pulled away, and positioned himself above her, pausing and looking down. He felt it, the 'something'. It was near, what this girl, no, woman beneath him could give him. He tensed, waiting. Then, as her crystaline eyes met his, Erik joined them as one. Meg let out a sharp cry, half of surprise, half of pain.

He filled her completly, tearing past her maidenhead. The pain flared, then died, leaving her with only a feeling of complete and utter _bliss_. Pleasure radiated between their joined bodies, Meg gasping below and Erik straining to stay completly still above. Letting lose a stream of curses between clenched teeth, he leaned all his weight on his hands, studying her face beneath him. Their was a pained expression, but that melted and she looked...content.

Megs eyes opened, with her not realizing that they were closed, and she met his. Erik dipped his head and kissed her, a chaste pressing of his lips against hers, which she returned. Then he began moving. A slow rythum of two bodies. A dance as old as time, starting out hesitantly, then going faster, gathering tempo. Music began, her breathy moans and cries, his growls and guttral groans, all joining together and becoming louder. The flames of desire and lust rose higher, white-hot and deliciously burning, encasing thier bodies in heat and light.

And their eyes never parted.

Suddenly the crescendo rose, the flames burst into firecrackers, and they fell over the edge, Meg letting lose a low keening cry and Erik groaning. They came back, his body collapsed over hers covered in a light sheen of sweat. Meg enjoyed the fullness, the contentment of having his gasping breath return to normal above her, his weight on her body, his seed in her womb.

Erik couldn't keep his eyes open. He hadn't slept since she left, and now he felt more content that he ever had in his life. He felt as if he belonged, right here, right now. The thoughts didn't really connect completly, his mind drifting off. Filled with dreams of a blonde haired Aphrodite, holding out her hand, full of complete trust and love.

AN;;Okay. I just feel... happy. I hope this was as good to you as it was to me, and if you flame or review harshly, just remember that I never claimed to be super awesome at lemons. Anyway. About the whole chase-Meg-round-the-world thing? I've changed it. Now its gonna be, something along the lines of have-Meg-with-Erik-and-have-sex-around-the-world. And of course there is gonna be a falling out, when he finishes the play. Cause you can't be happy and write Don Juan. Its impossible. Unless your evil

oh well

Ja ne!


	3. When it all falls apart

He fell asleep on her! The Bastard gave her a moment of complete and utter ecstacy and he fell asleep! Meg stared incrediculesly at the phantom, his face lax in sleep. She glared, hardening her heart to the adorable way he held her close as she tried to wiggle free. When she finally succeded untangling her limbs from his, she tripped and fell on her ass. So much for ballarina grace. Peeking down at him she watched him frown, then snuggle up with a large pillow. Giggling, Meg stood, then realized her complete and utter nakedess. She was about to dive for the covers when she realized two things.

One, Erik would wake up if she did, and two, who was here to see it? In any case, her gown was right there, and it was an easy matter to quickly slip into it and and tighten the back. It didn't fit completly correctly, the lines softened and revealing all her curves and the embarrassing pucker of her nipples (well it was cold!) but it would have to do. After all, her corset was ripped, and lost in the wild nest that Erik called a bed.

Meg looked around. Other than the desk in the corner, and the sunken in bed, the room had no furniture. There were three doors on different walls. Deciding to leave the desk alone (Erik was always touchy about his work) she opened the first. A decadent bath, including a huge tub and several racks of soaps and lotions Hopefully more for her than him, because it would be odd if Erik scrubbed himself with rose soap while soaking in gardenias

The second led to a hall, filled with doors. A small smile of relief crossed her lips.

Erik sighed and lifted a hand to trail down Meg's thigh...instead finding velvet instead of the silk of her skin. Raising an eyebrow he sat up... only to find her gone. Erik jumped up, scanning the room. The bathroom and his closet were just as empty as his bed and the open door to the hall left a sickening sensation in his stomach.

Eyes blazing Erik stormed into the hall and began searching. The stables still had all six horses (Two for riding, four for the coach) and there were no footprints in the dirt to signify her escape into the woods surround his house. He turned back to the door. She must still be inside, trying to find a way out. Erik bared his teeth and gave a loud growl.

(Two hours earlier)

"Curiouser and curiouser." She said softly, enjoying the irony. Pushing back the wild chaos that was her hair, Meg ventured into the hall.

Two hours later she was hopelessly lost.

"Why does he like labyrinths so much?" She asked herself crossly, opening another door. The days weight became heavier with each step and she really regretted getting out of the warm bed. She could be sleeping right now...or... Meg grinned to herself, thinking over their time together and perhaps an encore when she got back. The next door happened to be the kitchen.

Her stomach's aches reminded her that her last meal was a couple quail eggs and champagne at the Ball-Masque earlier. She slipped in, the cool stone causing her to gasp as her feet were bare. On the shelf was some crackers, and cheese, and ripening in a dish were several fruits, peaches and pears amung them. Gleefully, she grabbed a peach, but before she bit in she thought of Erik. Would he mind?

Did she care? Nope. She sank her teeth deep into the fruit , relishing as the juices ran down her chin. She chewed, swallowed, then turned around and let out a shreech.

Erik stood there, panting slightly, and...

...naked.

Meg's eyes widened. She really hadn't had a chance to study his... Ahem earlier. But according to other people (If Ballet rats were truthful) he was very well-endowed. She felt her knees weaken as she took in his chiseled muscles, and strong arms...then thought about what those arms did a little while ago. Turning her burning face away, she swallowed, then turned back and focas on his face.

Which wasn't really that hard, considering he was scant inches from her. His eyes were unusually bright, his hair mussed.

"Are you alright Erik?" She asked, absently pushing a stray strand of hair out his eye. He straightened and shook his head.

"Fine. Where did you go?" His voice was unusually husky and Meg frowned. It wouldn't be good if he got sick, running around nude all day.

"I was exploring, but I got lost. You really need to find a place without as many twists and turns. " She informed him, smiling. "You want a piece of fruit?"

Erik studied the out stretched peach, a neat bite taken out of it. A slow smirk crossed his lips, and he leaned in and bit a clean piece out of it. Meg's breathing had sped up and she swallowed as she watching his eyes burn into hers as he lasvisciously licked the juices off his lips. He lifted a hand and took the fruit from her unresisting fingers. Tossing it behind him, Erik backed her against the counter pressing another hand into her hip, lifting her up onto it.

"I find myself in need of satiating a different sort of hunger, my Meg." He informed her wickedly smiling. Meg nodded, her eyes dazed as he easily slipped her out of the dress. He frowned at the silk in his hand when she was naked in front of him "I had thought I ripped this."

"You did, but its still wearable." She told him huskily. Shrugging one shoulder he neatly ripped it in half.

"Not any more. Besides, you won't need any clothes for as long as I have a say." He stated, tossing it aside. Meg nodded dumbly.

" Kay." She reached out and reeled him in by a hand at the back of the neck. Thier lips fused and she pressed against him, reveling in the feel of naked flesh against flesh.

He took her there, hard and hungrily, almost despretly. As if he could lose her. As if she'd let him get away! Meg grimaced as she shifted and felt slightly uncomfortable twinges. She would certainly feel that in the morning. She had more bruises on her now than she did when she first met him and fell through the floor! Erik had gotten her to the bed a little while ago, taken her again until she fell alseep. He was now scribbling furiously at his desk. Since his back was turned, she curled up into herself and let her mask of contentment slip off.

It would be so hard letting him go. So hard, so painful. Her hand trailed to her stomach as a thought occured to her. She might be pregnant! The thought caused no alarm, no reaction except a rush of sadness for a child who, like her, might never know its father. She let her hand drop and sighed softly.

"Meg?" He called to her and Meg stood, bringing a small silk blanket along with her. He had turned back, and watched her with guarded eyes. The wariness there almost made her break, but, facade firmly in place, she smiled softly at him.

"Yes Erik?" She asked, leaning against the desk. He pressed her a little until she was directly in front of him. He then rested his head against her stomach, showing her a part of him he kept locked up. A defenceless little boy, lost and alone in the world that hated him. She wrapped her arms around his head, offering what little comfort she could. After a minute, his hands caressed thier way up her hips, to the undersides of her breasts. Meg's head dropped back as she let the cover go and pool at thier feet in a puddle of maroon.

Erik pressed his forehead against hers, eyes closed. She tried to capture his lips in a kiss, but instead he merely buried his head in her neck nipping there gently. Before she was lost to passion completly it occured to her.

Erik had not kissed her since their first time. Not in the kitchen. Not in the bed, either times. She tried again to bring his lips to hers, but he evaded them, merely lifting her hips and driving himself inside her welcoming heat. Meg began sobbing softly, trying to keep him from noticing. So it was this then? Her thoughts were once again lost to her as he started the delicious friction that brought stars to her eyes.

They climaxed together, and Meg picked the sheet up and went to the bed, watching his begin to write again. She dropped the sheet and calmly went to the bathroom. Erik didn't even look at her.

Five minutes later she was bent over the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach. His callousness and refusal to even kiss her made her realize what she was to him.

Nothing. An itch to be scratched. Nothing more, nothing less. Meg sobbed silently, tears falling down her face. She couldn't even have this! Couldn't even have him for a day, a couple hours!

She raged silently .

Silently cried.

Silently prayed.

Silently retched.

Silently. Because any noise from her might wreck this. The carefully built wall of her emotions. It might break and she would do something she would regret.

Something to make him notice her.

Megs gaze caught the razor sitting on the washstand. She stood, a little shakily, then lifted the glistening blade. Meg studied it, almost numbly. She then brought it to her wrist, pressing lightly. A drop of crimson blood welled.

"Meg?" Erik caled form the other room.

Meg dropped the razor, staring at it in horror. What was she doing! She took a step back and fell, then scuttled away from the blade, pressing herself into a corner. What was she doing! Was she really going to use that?

Meg's sobbing began again, and thats how Erik found her. Curled, crying, in the corner, his shaving blade on the floor in front of her, a spot of blood on the glistening tip. He looked in horror at her wrist. A couple drops had welled and spilt over, staining her skin with the condemning color.

"What are you doing?" He asked her, staring wide eyed, as if he didn't know her. She gave him a hysterical laugh.

"I don't know." was all she would say. Erik felt rage boil over. How dare she do this? How dare she hurt herself? His vision was clouded with red and when it cleared she was crumpled in fron of him, her lip broken and bleeding, a hand print on her face, terror in her eyes and his hand raise for another blow.


	4. So, befitting my birth I became the brid...

OH MY GOD! SAVE ME! My story has taken on a mind of its own! I DIDN'T START THE LAST CHAPTER FOR IT TO END LIKE THAT! Im not into angst! But I just sat down and wrote and couldn't stop it! Then I posted it before I realized what I had done! Forgive me!

But realize that later Im gonna have a happy ending... I have to...(Whimpers in self denial as the evil plot-bunnies and muses smirk and chuckle at her) IT SAYS SO IN THE SUMMARY! Goes off and prays to every Diety she can think of that the Summary is right

The Beast Within

"I cannot appologize or my behavior. I know I am a monster. No, do not interupt. Let me finish. I know I am a monster, and had you taken off my mask when we first joined you would know the truth of this. I love Christine. I love her with the tattered shreds of my soul. The little bit of man left in me loves her. The Beast inside of my chest yearns for her. I cannot fall asleep without dreaming about her, I cannot sing without hearing her voice. I cannot look at you without realizing the shame I have brought to her by betraying my love for her with you. She is pure, sweet, forgiving. Everything I want, everything I need. I do not know what I have with you... I cannot understand it. But the Beast inside of me desires you with a passion that overcomes my human side's desire to keep Christine and you from harm. I am ruled by my Beast. Meg...I cannot let you go. Even now. Even after I raised my hand and struck you, a thing I have never even thought of, never even considered in my life of cruelty. I cannot let you go. God help you, but I cannot. Listen to me. Should you run, I will persue. Should you hide, I will hunt you down. Your in my blood, and I cannot give myself fully to My Love until I can get you out. I cannot, will not, let you leave. From the day you found me you have been mine; and neither God above or the Demons from the pit will change that"

And the Phantom of the Opera walked away, leaving the woman on the floor, weeping, bleeding and broken. She cleaned herself up, then took a deep breath. She could do this. He would break her heart and shatter her soul, but she could pick up the pieces. Even if it broke her, she would carry on. After all, she did have Him. If only for a little while. And that would have to be enough.

Disclaimer; I OWN NOTHING!

"Lady Meg!" Edward cried out. Meg turned around, a soft smile coming to her lips. Th Duke's face broke into a foolish grin that caused Meg to laugh.

"My Darling Duke!" She returned, curtsying.

Edward paused, then returned the mock-formality, suprising buttonless doublet flapping with the abrupt movement. Meg giggled as his tousled head popped up again. He then kissed the profered hand, gallently.

"I do so hope you have an explanation my dear Sir." She adminished gently, motioning to his doublet.

"For my abserd state of undress? Why certainly Mam'selle." He began, but then paused, staring at her.

"What?" she asked, getting nervous. Edward blinked, then smiled.

"Sorry, I was just lost in those dove grey eyes of yours. Their really quite spectacular." He returned softly, tilting his head at an adorable angle. Meg burst out with a tinkling laughter.

"Now, My Dear Duke, that was a very good one. Next time remember the 'Sparkling, shining like stars' bit" Meg replied, and Edward's grin widened.

"Its perfectly true. What? You believe my words false? My intentions impure?" He pretended to be scandelized.

"In a word? Yes." Meg stated primly, turning into a dressshop which advertized gloves in the window. She went over to the glove counter, Edward following.

"Where ever have you been? Lady Holly said something vague and mysterious, but that is usually how she answers important questions." Edward held up an ivory lace pair, threaded through the center with black silk ribbon. Meg shook her head.

"I'm actually looking for a red pair." She answered his unspoken question, then paused to consider the first. Then, haltingly. "I caught up to... an old aquaintence."

"Ahh. An aquaintence. " He repeated, the word wrought with meaning. He tapped a red silk pair in front of her, jogging her out of her reverie. She picked them up, then turned to him, anguish apparent on her pale face.

"My lord-" She began, but he pressed a gentle white-gloved finger to her full lips, eyes soft and warm.

"Its Edward, Lady Meg." He turned and picked up the ivory and black gloves and also a pair of wicked black silk opera gloves. "How long do you intend to visit with your old aquaintence?"

"For as long as he'll have me." She replied softly, watching him. He stiffened, then turned to her, worry in his gaze.

"Are you quite all right, my dear?" He asked, feeling her cheek. Meg nodded.

"I'm afraid my illness is entirly incurable. " She sighed. Edward nodded.

"I find myself aflicted with the very same malady." He said, staring at her with all-too-perceiving eyes. "Should you find yourself companionless in the near future..."

"I shall come and visit you immediently. " She said, with forced casualness, hating now that she was 'Damaged goods' she could only look foreward to a life of being a mistress. Edward caught her wrist as she went to pay for the pair. he added the two in his hand and took care of it.

"I hope we shall do more than visit, my love." He said, then gave her the gloves-

and a spectacular engagment ring. Meg gasped, staring at the sparkling set of diamonds and emeralds, all clustered together. It must have cost him a fortune.

"My heart will always be yours, even if yours is not mine. I shall come visit you sometime." He turned and walked out the door, before pausing and giving her a sweet smile. "Until we meet again, My Meg."

Meg was left with three pairs of gloves, a golden diamond promise, and an open mouth.

"Where were you? I missed you." Erik said, pulling her to him, nuzzling her neck. Meg snuggled into the embrace, sighing sweetly.

"I went to get gloves." She motioned to the little parcel on the table. Then she laughed a little. "I wasn't gone but two hours."

"Two hours twenty minutes and fifteen seconds." He corrected into her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Meg leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes shuttering half-closed. He began pressing small moist kisses up her neck, until he reached her mouth.

Meg herself moved her head to the side when he went to kiss her.

He was only doing it to make up for her almost killing herself. He paused, then slipped her dress and petticoats up, sliding a smooth hand up her thigh. He press the flesh there, no doubt leaving bruises, but it matter naught to Meg. Every touch from him only added to the fire burning within her. She moaned, tossing her ehad to the side, as he lifted her a little impatiently against the desk. His papers scattered and through the haze she saw the title. Don Juan.

Erik layed her back onto the table, onto his greatest work, and quickly shed his remaining clothes. He had been lounging in his breeches, impatiently waiting for her return. Several times he thought to go get her, but restrained himself. He dragged a hand down her curves, pulling the top of the dress (All of them sent by these mysterious benefactoress's 'Holly' and 'Stephanie' that Meg knew) down and working his talented fingers on her breasts. Meg moaned and thrashed beneath him, cheeks flushed rosy, hair in a wanton tangled mass.

Ripping off her bloomers in his haste, Erik wrapped a hand around her tiny waist and pulled her upright as he thrust into her. The different angle made Meg freeze, her release coming to her immediently. He propelled himself to the music of her strangled gasps and cries, the feel of her nails digging into his shoulders as he brought her to another orgasm. Gasping and growling into her ear, husky noises that only made her want him more, She felt him stiffen above her, stars coming to his eyes, colors blending, music in his ears, falling over the edge.

He pulled away, lifting her limp form to the bed, sliding in beside her for a moment, before getting back to the desk and gathering his scattered work and seeing what precise page he took her on. Stained from sweat, it was his aria of Love to Christine.

Am I evil? Do I just enjoy sending Erik over an emotional rollercoaster loop-de-loop without a seatbelt? Am I insane? Yes, all of the above. Add to that, friendless and living in Iowa as Queen of the Corn and you've got me pegged! No offense to native Iowinians, but hey... It Iowa! Speaking of friends, I LOVE YOU STEPHANIE! You are my goddess, my muse. You make the stars above dim, the moon glare in jealousy. When God created you, he must have used the extra special awesome-juice! Pearls are cloudy, diamonds dull, the very mountains magesty only second rate compared to you! And you sure as Hell better give me a five inch long review after this load of Bull:)

It had been almost one month. Meg had seen the glory of Rome, the splendor of Athens. Exotic cities in Egypt, Persia, all around African and India. Throughout this time Erik had been courteous, gentle and kind. Until they were in bed. Then he let out his demons. Meg couldn't count how many times after a ball, dinner or meeting she had been thrown against the wall and ravaged. Not that she was unwilling. On the contrary, half the times she initiated it. Erik was simply just irresistable. He'd look at her with those gold-rimmed blue eyes, give her a smoky smile and she'd loose it.

It was rather unfair of him, until she deicded that turnabout was fair play.

It was in Arabia, after a shocking dance in a smoky, inscented dim room, when Meg was pulled aside by the Sultana and four concubines. They all exclaimed over Meg's hair, the long golden strands easily pulled out of its braid, her fair skin and dove grey eyes. Then, telling a guard to inform 'Master Erik' as they called him, that they were 'kidnapping her' they dragged her back to the palace.

It was there she was initiated into the secret, seductive center of a Woman's Power. Cheeks flaming, she listened a tad too eagerly to the Sultana's advice. After a piece of extremly shocking information, the dark-haired woman pulled the blushing little 'Woman-child' up and placed her hands on the slim blondes hips.

"What!" Meg jumped as the practiced taloned fingernails pressured her into swaying.

"Let your body feel it child... Let it move as it wants." Sultana coaxed, releasing her as music began playing. "Imagine your lover before you, seated on the silken cushions, watching you with dark eyes.Toy with him. Teach him how much you want him. Slided your hands down your body, drive him mad with desire."

And Meg did. Imagining herself under the intense eyes of Erik, watching them deepen and darken. She moved with the slinky grace of a feline, allowing the natural seductress come out, strengthening her. When she stopped, her body bent back, breathing ragged, eyes smoky with desire, the Sultana nodded and smiled secretivly.

"Come, you need the right clothing."

Erik tapped his fingers impatiently. Meg had come home with several guards carrying her luggage (Luggage he noticed she didn't have before meeting that interfering Sultana) and dragged them into the Bathroom. She refused to come out afterward.

It had been three hours.

It had been ten since he had been deep inside her.

It had been a full day without seeing her completly naked goddess-like form.

And.

It.

Was.

Driving.

Him.

INSANE.

He needed her now more than ever. That dancer had piqued his interest, but only because he had been watching Meg's reaction. Watching the way her creamy cheeks flushed at the dancing innuendos that only another dancer would understand. Watching the smoky haze of the room lull her dove-grey eyes half-lidded as if after being satisfied in the best ways. That damned Sultana snuck her away and he'd been tempted to ask Sultan AhkMed to punish her for it, but refrained when she came back a scant hour later, loaded down with gifts and a secret in her smiling gaze.

Erik's train of thought slowed as the sultry scent of exotic flowers slipped sensually into the room.

It jumped tracks, crashed and burned as Meg appeared.

His jaw left his face and became one with the floor.

Aqua colored silk, embroidered with black, and a scant seven inches of the seductive fabric hid just the bare essentials of her ample bosom from view. Another ten inches hung from her waist in a smug mockery of a skirt, even more indecent by the slits at the side, up to her hips. Black and blue jewels decorated her belly-button, causing Erik to wonder, idylly, how such a small nook of her body became so intensly sexual.

Braided velvet at her gently flaring hips held up several swaths of aqua and black sheer material that fell to the floor, merely enhancing her practically nude form rather than concealing. Her hair hung down her back in waves, curls, and braids, impossibly thick and full. A tiara of silver held a black veil over her nose, mouth and the lower half of her face, giving her thickly khol lined eyes an exotic cast. Two more velvet braids on her upper arms held draping Blue and black sheer fabric that swirled around her arms, several of the swaths tied to a point on both black nailed hands.

Erik growled low in his throat and moved to stand, but one of those wickedly laquered hands lifted in a gesture to stop. He knew he could very easily take her, but watching her proved more interesting. An Arabian music started, complements of the band sitting outside of their veranda. A very private group, he remembered, that played for the Sultan when he was **_busy_** with certain women. Several thick sheets of billowy fabric seperated them, and he saw they were all looking away.

So this was for his eyes only. Suddenly Erik didn't care anymore. Because Meg had started to move.

One arm up in the air, serpentine movements like the waves of the ocean followed the lean appendage down her body to her bare feet. Seductive, sensual, eyes locked with his, she danced in a way that put professionals to shame. She danced with all the passion of making love, her hand trailing several times down her own body. Eyes sometimes closing in rapture.

All in all, it was the most sexually arousing display he had seen...ever. Hell, even Christine's innocently sensual undressing paled in comparison to this.

Eric watched as Meg crawled laguidly on all fours, slowly, as if savoring the moment. She came between his legs, slipping up to wrap her arms around his neck, a leg over his hip, the other following suit.

"Leave us!" He roared, eyes locked with hers as the frightened musicians scattered.

When all was silent he twined a shaking arm around her waist, bending her back. Megs eyes closed as he pushed a hand through the valley of her breasts, unsnapping the flimsy fabric from her golden skin. He reached her neck, grasping it and pulling her up. Her eyes opened half-lidded, watching him.

"You do know, this means war." He told her softly, wanting her to know what happens to those who tempt him. Meg's answer was a slow sensual all-too-knowing smile that sent waves of arousal through him.

"I was hoping you would say that."

With a growl he lunged at her, tumbling to the floor and taking the brunt of the fall. Meg was soon under him, wincing as he ripped the complecated costume off her. That must have been expensive. Suddenly, he was inside her and she ceased to care. That pounding rythum came quickly their time spent away from each others arms and the dance quite enough foreplay for both of them thankyouverymuch.

Meg was burning up, her only relief the cool kisses of his ardent mouth and the pressue of his caressing and bruising hands on her body. She cried out into her mouth as she found her release, Feeling him shudder as he quickly followed her into the abyss.

Petting his back as he came down, Meg felt a frisson of excitment, wondering exactly what punishment would her Dark Prince think up of in his genius mind.

All she knew was that in the end, she'd enjoy it immensly.

Curious? I'll give you one clue.

La da da da da da da da... and really bad eggs...DRINK UP ME HEARTIES YO HO!


	5. How does the wily crocodile improve his ...

HERE IT IS LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! The PHANTOM OF THE OPERA...AS A PIRATE! Yes I really am going to do this...no, sadly there will be no Jack Sparrow nakedness. Oh well... since you begged... I'll try. What? You weren't begging? Than who was that screaming for his nakedness..? Oh yea. That was me. Oh well. Maybe I can fit it in.

Here to hoping! Passes out rum and downs hers

DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING AND NEVER WILL!

"I can't believe him!" Meg groaned against her pillow. The boat swayed and sent her unprepared body off the edge of the small box bed build into the wall of the ship. Just two days ago Erik had calmly informed her she would be headed to a small island in the carribean (No matter that she only knew about such a place from those damned penny-dreadful novels) and he would not be acompanying her.

Swallowing the unlady-like curse that welled to her lips, on this ship she had learned many, she stood, straitened out her poet shirt, brown lather vest, and brown breeches (Erik would pitch a fit to learn of her wearing them, which was why she put them on. Obedience be damned) and headed toward the deck.

Contrary to the popular stereotypical belief that all woman are delicate creatures who hate to sail, Meg found she thrived on it. Although, now that she thought on it, the sailors here were very stereotypical... pirates that was. She tossed the thought away, damned penny-dreadfuls filling her mind with gothic horror nonsense, she turned a corner...

...to see a door open. Meg, being the curious woman that she was, snuck up and peeked in.

Then gulped and jerked back.

There was a naked man in there! And he was naked! Singing some lusty tune about the 'Girl from Nantucket'. AND NAKED! Meg thought about turning away, but instead bit her lip and peeked in again. Tall, bronzed skin, tattooed deliciously, and well... naked. His back was sculpted, his arms chiseled, his hair pulled back with a faded crimson kerchief decorated with jewel and baubles and sinfully long...

...with a P scarred into his right hand.

Meg jerked back. P. P equals Pirate. Oh Dear lord, what ship had Erik put her on? She made a move to turn back to her small cabin when a surprisingly strong grip wrapped around her wrist.

"Hello luv. Enjoy me show?" He asked cheerfully, before pulling her into his cabin.

Oh dear. He was still naked. Meg valiently kept her gaze off of his considerable assets and locked them on his face. He was handsome, in a swashbuckling, devistatingly, sweep-me-off-my-feet-and-ravish-me-on-a-deserted-island way...

But only if you like that sort of thing.

Meg begged her inner Seductress, newly awakened from its dance with Erik, to not like this devistating piece of gorgeous hunk in front of her.

The Seductress merely wet her lips.

The pirate circled her, lifting a strand of hair and letting it slide through his fingers.

"If not for the fact that I knew Erik would kill me, lass, I would take you for my own." He told her, watching her through narrowed, khol lined eyes.

'YES!' Her inner seductress cried, punching her fist into the air. Meg gulped.

"You know Erik?" She asked, haltingly. He laughed.

"Better than most. Which is saying somthin' lass, considering only a handful of people know him. Most of thos fear him." He walked over to slip on a pair of black breeches. Meg pretended that she didn't inwardly 'Boo'.

"How do you know him?" Meg wondered out loud. The pirate shrugged.

"Saved his life, he saved mine... that sort o' thing. Names Jack by the way." He held out a hand. Meg took it automatically.

Which turned out to be a bad thing.

"Don't reckon he'll know it I took a kiss or two..." He mused, breathing sweet rum-scented breath onto Meg's face. Meg's eyes widened, but before she could scream, he captured her lips in a feirce possession.

Oh yea. Definatly sweep-me-off-my-feet-and-ravish-me-on-a-deserted-island type. But to her surprise, although there was sparks, there was none of the sweetness she had when The Duke stole a kiss, or those brief explosive oh-my-god-life-can-get-no-sweeter times when she kissed Erik.

But the was some considerable earth shaking.

Wait a moment... the ship was shaking... a lot! Jack broke the kiss with a regretful sigh and grabbed a sword.

"On with the show lass." He said cheerfully, and Meg watching him wide-eyes.

A moment later a man barreled down the stairs, took one look at her and grinned.

"We've got pirates on our tail lass. You'd better hide or else you's be servicing a lot more men than ol' Jack here now." He informed her, before grabbing the other sword from the room and leaving. Meg went numb for one horrifying moment. Then sounds of battle reached her ears and she quickly went to her room.

Three small daggers (Present from Holly when Steph wasn't looking) were slid into her bodice and garters and a pistol, (Preasent from Erik a little while ago) loaded and ready, was attached to her hip. Meg, not one to sit and wait for death to come to her, snuck up to the deck and hid, watching the battle.

It seemed, along with Jack and few other sailors, were all on the pirates side, but then again it was not uncommon for such treachery. There were two pirate ships, one huge and black with obviously newly tailored black sails and another, smooth dark brown ebony, with the words 'Merciful Death' carved into its graceful side.

It was obvious the ship was losing. And suddenly Meg knew why.

"Fucking Bastard!" She crused, watching Erik, black domino mask gleaming evilly, behind which darkly khol-lined exotc eyes sparkled with the heat of battle. He began to parry and thust a young man into the ocean. He wore an open-chested poet shirt (Meg had to forcibly stop herself from gasping) tight black breeches, knee-high black boots, and several sashes tied about his waist, with a belt and two pistols secured and a scarlet red thickly brocaded overcoat.

War he wanted? War he would get!

Meg noticed that the black ship was nearly empty of crew. A smile form on her lips.

"We found her Captain!"

"Bring her forth." Erik said, grinning evilly. Time to teach his luscious new captive the meaning of seductive torture... Erik frowned. They shoved a miss-shaped lug in a dress to him.

"That..." Jack said, swaying a bit and grining. "Is definatly not a woman."

"CAPTAIN JACK!" The cry was from below the deck of the beaten ship. All pirates rushed down. A pirate, supposedly the guard, was bleeding from a not-very-serious-but-obvious-very-painful head wound.

"Where are the captives?"

Erik narrowed his eyes and calmly walked on top deck, watching Jack Sparrows ship sail away into the horizon.

"Oh no! Not good! Not Good!" Jack cried, watching it.

Before it was completly out of range, a pistol was fired. The bullet landed near Eriks feet and he looked up, blank faced, as Meg grinned cockily at him. His lips cruved into a sleek smile.

"She is very good." Jack observed unhappily.

"You have no idea."

They found Jack's ship, empty of crew, sitting on the beaches of its destination. Easily waving off Jack's offer to help 'Tame the little ship-stealing shrew' he sent them on thier way, his own Ship 'Merciful Death' anchoring at the harbor two miles away.

He found his 'Prize', sipping from a pilfered glass (Most likely Jack's) of what looked like fruit juice, eating tropical fruits and dressed in a gaily colored sarong.

"You do realize," She began. "That it was been about three days since we last made love."

"I know." he said. She turned to him, wide-brimmed hat shadowing her reproachful gaze.

"I thought that a white-sanded beach would made you look silly, with your Opera ways... but your quite devistatingly handsome standing there." She observed, the slight hitch of desire in her voice not going unnoticed. Erik crossed the distance.

"I believe I am supposed to punish you for your forward, wanton ways in Arabia, but I recently descovered that having your willing body away from mine for more than a few hours at a time is completly impossible. And very painful." There was a glint of humor in his words. He admitted his mistake. Meg smiled and curved a hand around his neck, pulling him down to cover her soft pliant body with his.

"I do believe you hit the nail on the head." She told him huskily, pulling the rediculusly easy to remove outfit off of her "And I love the pirate outfit. The khol is especially dear to my heart."

Erik let out a bark of laughter, Meg joining in as she pushed off the thick brocade scarlet red overcoat (Think Captain Hook)

It was in the busy Harbor, a few days later, that Meg's unsteady happiness came crashing down.

Word had reached a distant relative of the Opera House, who lived at the Harbor in the Carribean of all places, that the Stunning Christine Daae had accepted to proposal of TheViscomte De Chagey.

Meg watched the Curtain fall over Erik's face and he became, before her very eyes, the cold and calculating, malicious, Phantom of the Opera. They set sail the next morning, neither speaking to one another. She still slept with him, he still took her every night, but it was a mad coupling, Her trying to adjust to the fact she would never have him, he trying to erase her from his blood.

Niether found what they were after.

And when they reached land, almost a full three months after she ran away, Meg Giry learned she was pregnant.


	6. Edward

Okay, recap. Erik, aka the Phantom of the Opera is in love with his progene Christine Daae (wow, that rhymed) Whilst trying to caprture said maidens heart he instead captures her best friends. Unbeknownst to him of course. He finds himself strangly attracted to the young ballet dancer, and after a brief stuggle with his concious, he takes her for his own. Or plans to. Meg Giry escaped the Phantom's Opera, only to be caught after an extensive shopping spree. She is affianced to a Duke who will wait forever for her, then taken around the world. A slutty dance, scantily clad, a sea battle, and Phantom of the Opera as a pirate later after a sinful couple days on white-sand beeches Erik learns of Christines acceptance of Raouls proposal. They head back, still having sex (Its only making love if you arn't possessed with the need to get each other out of each other's system) On her arrival, Meg goes to the doctor because of her recent sea trip. She learns she is pregnant.

Isn't life grand.

Told you I could fit in Jack! Oh, a note about the last couple chapters... I dont even know where Arabia is, so if its been changed dont bug me. Its my fantasy world. Wow, this story's kinda taken a mind of its own... kewl. Less thinking for me. oh! And I'm feeling free and changing a few things. but basic story line.

Madam Giry said nothing. She hadn't said anything for the past two days. But she knew. That pitying glance nearly crippled Meg when she first came, but she resolved not to break down. A Mascarade was planned for this evening, and Meg was standing, watching her Mother NOT say anything as she pinned the rediculusly pure white gown on her. She had made the gown with innocence in mind.

So, Meg pregnant with the homicidal Phantom of the Opera's child was going to a masque as Innocence. Meg laughed at that, and her mother gave her a small smile. The gown was lovely, as it was. The purity of it, though, reminded Meg of the deliriously happy Christine. That left a bad taste in her mouth. Madam Giry glanced up at Meg, watching her disgust at the gown. She dropped her hands away from the pins.

"Meg, darling. Should you wish..." She began, avoiding her daughters questioning gaze. "You may change it."

Meg watched her mother leave the room. She stepped off the platform to chase after her, to tell her the gown was fine, but she paused.

Because her gaze caught a couple swaths of fabric spilling out of a trunk she brought with her.

Aqua and black.

Raoul did a double take as the former sweet and silent Meg Giry took to the stairs. He was sure almost everyone else did as well. She wore sinfully black ballet slippers, her hair a chaotic but artistic mass of fiery blonde curls, and black and light blue ribbons threaded through, all piled on her head. She wore a aqua blue corsett, with thick pieces of black resembling leather belts crossing haphazardly over it. Almost like a make-shift corset, giving her a wicked look. Her skirt was tulle, ripped and torn in places on purpose, a jumble of the two themed colors. She wore delightfully naughty fishnets, also ripped, with her lips painted a deep uncompromizing black on her otherwize pale and lightly blue-sparkle dusted face. Her eyes were thickly lined with khol,in an exotic way he'd only heard of in Arabia.

Meg had come as Insanity.

Raoul had immediently swept her into a dance, partly to see if she had not succomed to her own costume's ideas. And partly to put his hands on the extremly tiny waist. This delicate little woman was personifying the most dangerous afflictions... but the scary part was she pulled it off.

"Viscomte." She said, easily giving him an impersonal smile.

"Mam'selle Giry." He came back, suddenly all the warnings he was going to give her about her outfit were lost in her unfathomable dove grey eyes, so filled with hidden dispair he almost let out a choked sob. The dance came to an end, the wraith stolen from his arms by another rich nobleman. He watched her twirl and sway, laughing slightly. Something wasn't right.

Then suddenly Christine was there, dressed in fairy-tale pink and Meg was reluctantly slipped back in his mind.

Meg smiled and declined the last dance, getting ready for her part. The entire masque was riddled with theater folk, who were trained, as a special treat, to dance for their guests in a song called Masqarade. She sang along, no longer hiding her alto voice. Erik had taught her that it was better to be who you really were instead of hiding. She let a small smile cross her face.

And suddenly the music changed. The mistro frowned as a different reccording started playing. A deep, seductive tempo, burning with anger and hate.

"Its him." She gasped softly. Sure enough, there He was. A bit of humor seeped in. Masque crashing Phantom, enter stage left. The humor was lost as he took to the steps, singing in that entrancing voice of his. Meg swayed gently to his beat, eyes locked on his face. He had come as the Red Death, Edgar Allen Poe's mask of death obscuring his beloved features, making his sensual lips seem somehow cruel. she had not seen him since he left her at the ship.

She was suddenly and horribly aware of her outift, and what memories it would awaken in him. Just her luck, she was right beside Christine. He never wavered from his path, procuring a thick Opera out of no where and telling the managers who to cast. Then his gaze caught that of the entranced little twit Christine. Suddenly there was no malace, no hatred, only a deep warmth. Meg dropped her gaze, taking a step back...

...Into Duke Edwards embrace. Her shocked eyes met his solemn ones and he gave her a quick smile. When she looked back it was to Erik's raging eyes.

And there was no warmth to be found. Meg's only thought was... this is the father of my child.

Christine was still walking slowly toward him as if he were a holy relic and Meg dropped her gaze. She studied the mosaic on the floor, suddenly noticing the circular depression. A trap door? Here! She pushed Edward out of the circle, then went to follow.

"You belong to me!" Erik hissed, and Meg looked back to see him towering over Christine- but looking at her. He moved the still entranced girl aside and clamped a hand on Meg's wrist as they both exploded into flame. Then fell through the floor. A series of complicated tunnels and slides later they fell into the hall of mirrors. Once Meg's favorate place. She doubted after this she would like it anymore.

Erik kept a propetorial hand on her wrist, pulling her through harshly, his enitre body set with tension. Over the little river, past the 'Music Bedroom' and into the library. He roughly tossed her into an overstuffed chair, then turned toward the flames, his entire body ridged.

"You think I wouldn't find out? To keep it a secret from me?"

And Meg's world stopped spinning.

Erik turned to her, red-rimmed eyes locking on her pale face.

"I was going to tell you. I was just afriad-" She began stutteringly but Erik advanced on her and shook her by the shoulders.

"What? Afraid I might kill the Bastard?" He hissed and Meg gasped.

"How dare you! How dare you call him that!" Her hand went to her abdomen. "You were the one responsable!"

"Responsable! I made you do it? Im sure you were quite willing at the time!" Erik raged, wiping everything off his desk in a quick movement.

"I can't believe you." She whispered. Erik stood, the force of his breathing shaking his broad frame.

"Fine. Marry the God-damned bastard." He whispeded back. "I have no right to keep you. "

"What?" she gasped. He wasn't talking about the baby! Oh god, the feeling of relief that winged through her was certainly a sin, but he didn't know!...so what was he talking about?

"Your goddamned Duke." He spat. Edward! He was talking about the engagement ring! She sagged in relief. She hadn't thought on that since he had given it to her.

A thought occured to her. Here was the chance to end it. A chance to get away, to Marry Edward and live with the child of the man she truly loved. She would be at least content with life, not knowing what happened in the end. She sighed. It was never that easy, was it?

"Erik... I never said yes. " She told him, standing. He looked at her. "In the glove shop that day, he gave me the ring and left. He told me when my 'aquaintence' left he would be there. He told me he would wait for me."

"Your... your not engaged?" He asked, trembling.

Meg shook her head no. Erik sagged, then collapsed in the chair behind him. She came to him, kneeling by his feet, head on his lap. He pressed a hand to the top of her curls, dislodging a few ribbons. He took intrest, suddenly seeing her outift.

"What in the blazes are you wearing!" He asked, pulling ehr to her feet. His eyes widened in recognition of the colors, and noticed the theme. "Insanity? You went in front of other men like that!"

"I was tempted to wear the little red number with black that The Sultana gave me." She teased. Erik narrowed his eyes.

"Little red number?" He asked slowly. "Like that one outfit..."

"Mmmm hmmm." She nodded, watching his eyes turn dark. He stood and pulled her to him, trailing his hands down her back.

"Come. You have a solo in my Opera." He said, pulling her along. Meg disliked the reminder, but was estatic about the solo.

"You wrote a solo for me?" She asked, her mouth curving into a smile. Then it faded and she frowned. "What type of solo?"

"Dancing of course." was all he would say. Meg humored him, happy to have him almost like his normal self. well, as normal as a man like him could get anyway. He pulled her into a costume room.

Edward grabbed the Vicomte's coat, holding him from following the two down the tunnels.

"That way leads to death my friend." He told him as the trap door swung shut. After a moment of composing himself the french aristocrat nodded.

"Don't know what came over me." He whispered. Then he turned to Edward. "Viscomte Raoul De Chagney."

"Duke Edward of Laston My lord." He bowed slightly. Christine came to Raoul, sobbing.

"Oh, Raoul he's taken Meg. He took her to make me go to him!" She sobbed dramatically. "What shall I do?"

"I beg your pardon, My lady, but that man is an...aquintance of Mam'selle Giry." Edward said, frowning. Raoul picked up on the innuendo.

"Really? where exactly did you meet Miss Giry, Duke?" He asked, pulling the man away from Christine's innocent ears.

"Call me Edward please. In England. She a friend of a couple good friends of mine. I know her fairly well... Well, enough to propose anyway." He gave a sad little chuckle.

" To Meg? What did she say?"

"She was with an aquintence, if you understand sir. I told her I would wait for her."

"And you truly intend to take soiled goods to your wedding bed?" Raoul scoffed. The Duke calmly punched Raoul in the nose, sending the slightly younger man to the floor.

"I would not say such things, were I you Viscomte. I love Meg Giry. The man she's with now is slowly killing her and I came here to make sure that she survives him. I have no intention of letting her go a second time. "

"Okay... I think my costume was a tad bit more concealing than this, Erik." Meg said amusedly, looking down and the wicked black leather corsett and bright red sheer tulle tutu. Her lips were crimson, her eyes still lined with khol. Erik came out, dressed in his own costume. He sent for these from the best seamstresses as soon as he finished the Opera, about two months ago. Meg's breath caught.

Tight black leather I am now drooling on my keyboard pants, tall black boots, a silk crimson red poet shirt, black leather gloves, a black domino mask, and a starched high collared devious looking floor length cloak, midnight black lined with red silk. He also more a very sharp rapier, the handle sealed with his trade-mark bleeding skull. Meg touched the thick choker around her neck, similarly sealed.

"Erik... exactly who am I in your Opera?" She asked shakily. Erik came towards her, a cruel grin curving his sensual lips.

"Your Don Juan's 'aqaintence' my dear Meg." He took her polite term for husbandly-rights-out-of-the-marraige-bed and twisted them into something dark, something savage. Something incrediably sensual. Meg swallowed thickly, trying to get past the choking in her throat as he stalked her acrossed the empty room.

"Erik... " She whispered softly.

"Hush Meg. you read over the ballet?" He asked, She nodded silently. She could suddenly see the suggestive and intensly sexual dance with more clarity than she ever had.

He held out a gloved hand to her and Meg swallowed once more before falling into her part.

Frighteningly it wasn't that hard.

She became the Seductive Carmen, given to Don Juan by her father for a peace preasent, completly devoted to the dark man. She slipped a hand into his, letting her body flow into the movements. He twirled her in sharply, then hip to hip, slipped a hand around the small of her back, bending her backward and sliding a hand through the valley of her breasts. She was reminded sharply of the beach, and also of the night in his room when he did the same seductive motion. Her movements became more languid, lost in memories of being under him, beside him, above him, with him deep inside her.

He drew her up, slipping her around until her back was to him, then gently pressed her down, watching her face contort in ecstacy. She slid her arms around his leg pressing her body against him the entire way. His hand caressed her face briefly, before he stalked away and Meg was left alone on the cold stone floor. And she remembered the rest of the dance. Her gaze caught Eriks and she stood, abandoning the dance to find relief in his arms. She didn't cry, couldn't cry.

He wrote about them

Carmen is left on the floor alone, while Don Juan finds love in Her.

In Christine.


	7. Of compromising situations

Okay, I almost cried there. Sad sad sad. And almost done too! This will be the first fanfiction I have ever even come close to finishing. I'm guessing a couple more chapter, perhaps an epiloge. I have some sad news. I think the Summary lied.

Meg silently finished her practice. Her arms felt leaden, her soul nonexsistane. Chirstine had become nothing more than a babbling twit, blubbering that she would be lost from her one true love Raoul. How Raoul even kept up with it was beyond her. She also was suffering from morning sickness that lasted all day until late at night. So, she was decidedly irritable to find someone clapping in her private practice room.

"Do you mind?" She snapped, turning and seeing... EDWARD! Meg dropped her arms and gasped.

"Beg your pardon, perhaps this is a bad time." He chuckled. Meg shook her head.

"No, no, this is perfect... I havn't seen you since the masque... are you alright?" to her horror Meg found tears welling up in her eyes.

"The better question is are you alright?" He handed her a hankerchief. Meg tried smiling through her tears, but instead began crying harder. Edward frowned and pulled her unresisting body into his embrace. She let out her sobs there, finally calming down enough back taking a step back. Wiping off the tears she laughed a little.

"Sorry, stupid hormones." She said huskily. Edward frowned a little, then his eyes widened and Meg mirrored the look. There was a pause, him knowing and her knowing he knew and him knowing she knew he knew. SO tempting to keep that going... but I'll refrainThen he broke out in a delighted smile and grabbed her waist to spin her around.

"This is terrific news!" He shouted, then set her down and looked contrite. "Im sorry, are you okay?"

"Fine." Meg laughed a little dizzy from her circular trip. The smile faded. "Your happy? "

"Of course I am! Who wouldn't be! Your bringing a life into the world...its something to be rejoyced about!" He studied her face, then her stomach.

"Nothings showing yet." She told him, then, hesitatingly. "You'd still want me even with another's child?"

"A child can't help whose parent it is... anymore than we can help who we fall in love with." Edward shrugged one emerald-green coated shoulder as if that was that. Dontcha just wanna cuddle him and take him home?

"Your one extrodinary man, my Dear Duke." Meg smiled softly adoring the childish look of happiness at the edearment on his face.

"Come, lets to lunch. Im sure young mothers such as yourself need sustinence...and Shopping!" He helped her gather her costume clothes.

"What is it with you British and your shopping? Its almost as bad as the tea thing." She said, shaking her head.

"Actually, it was Lady Holly and Steph who taught me shopping always solves everything!" He called back, before holding the door open for her.

"How right they are, too!"

"Now, now, my dear, I believe you are quite drunk. why didn't you tell me you were so easily intoxicated?" Edward asked laughingly as Meg dipped and swayed in his arms. She let out a giggle-snort.

"Easily intoxi-intoxieeeeeee katedery. Im so am not intoxi... intoxie... drunk, my dear Dukie." Meg said frowning slightly.

"Apparently, Sweetness, you are. And only after two glasses of champagne!" Edward easily swung her up as she slid down. She went without resistance, biting her lip.

"You think it will hurt-" She rubbed her abdomen.

"No, no, of course not. My own mother had a scotch every night and a tumbler of sherry every day before I was born. It changed to Gin and rum when my sister was. Always a hellion, even in the womb." He mused, slipping expert hands into her purse and pulling out the key. Meg happily slid down the door, becoming a puddle of eggshell white and sky blue silk on the floor.

"He's going to take her you know." She said conversationally. Edward slowed his movements, looking down at her golden head. "Gonna try and keep her. even if he didn't want her, his silly willy sense of decorum forces him."

"Upsie-daisy." Edward interupted, lifting her under the arms.

Somehow, a long golden curl snagged on one of his lower waist coat buttons. Meg yelped, trying to pull away, tangling further. In his haste to remove the rebellious curl, the tightened overcoat's buttons snapped off from the akward bending he was doing. A long nailed delicate hand reached up to make him stop his shuffling hurried movements and therefore decrease her pain, but missed. Instead they scraped down his chiseled muscles, clenching unconciously and ripping the expensive cotton of his shirt. Edward pressed down on her shoulders holding her in place, but also unfortunatly ripping equally expensive and terribly thin chiffon.

The end result was a half-dressed Duke, with fingernail marks on his naked chest The shirt was now ripped to his wasitcoat his high cheek bones flushed with color, hair windswept, eyes blazing with embarrasment. Meg fared no better, one buttery-soft milky white shoulder exposed, the top of her breast, hair unkempt, blushing equally as bad, dress scandelously ripped, revealing a sinful black corset. Edward, in his haste to help her up, slipped.

And that is how the managers, Christine Daee, Raoul and several elite members of the Press found them.

The next days headlines read as such;

/Daring Duke and Mistress Meg, Caught in a Compromising Position./


	8. Friends, Names, Fevers, and Unconcious R...

Sorry the last chapter was so short, and so... well... stupid. But I had to get Eddie to know about the Baby, and the little 'Situation' in the end just made it funnier. I really don't know how Erik is gonna take that...

Maybe I shouldn't have wrote it...

Oh well.

I have a slight problem. i know the ending, true, but I dont know how to get there. So Im just gonna wing it, and if it reads differently, or goes too fast or slow or just plain confuses, well just bare with it. Its not like its gonna kill you.

Here goes nothing.

I disclaim, by the by.

One with the SHOW! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!

" 'Darling Duke Edward of England Twined with Beauteous Ballet Belldonna at the Opera Populair!' Good Gods, Stephanie, what does she think she's doing!" Holly exploded. Stephanie merely put the finishing touches on her award-winning cake.

"Leave her be, Holly. We're already going to see this 'Don Juan'. If she needs us before then, she'll ask." She replied to the red-faced girl.

"But she's ruining-"

"Leave it be." Stephanie gave Holly an icy glare. "She's a big girl, she can handle it."

Holly fell onto her chair dramatically. Then she pouted.

"I hate waiting."

"We can always buy a new dress for her. "

"I hate shopping more!"

"Angelica?"

"Nah."

"Drusella?"

"Blech!"

"Anastasia?"

"Hmmm... "

"How about Elsabeth?"

"Extremly ordinary." Meg petted her still-flat stomach. "My baby is extrodinary. A Ballet star, an Opera Diva, and a scholar."

"My, my, the little thing is amazing and not even out of the womb!" Edward tossed a grape to Meg, who neatly caught it between her teeth.

"I know." She boasted around the juicy fruit.

"How about Anastasia Elizabeth-Champagne?" Edward lifted a bottle of Chardoney.

"Were you a gentleman, My Dear Duke, you wouldn't remind me." Meg said primly. Edward laughed.

"Whoever said such slanderous things as that about me? A gentleman, Ha!" He uncorked the bottle and half-filled a small glass, then added some juice to it.

"Ew." Meg made a face. Edward gave her a look, then lifted it to her lips. She took a reluctant sip, looked shocked, then took the glass from him.

"How is your Phantom?" He asked conversationally. Meg sighed, almost regretting telling her Duke about Erik.

"Havn't seen him since... he told me about my solo." Meg drained the glass and played with a ripe apple on the picnic cloth. Edward sighed.

"So... when are you going to run away with me?" The teasing was so very close to the truth, Meg laughed. She would run away, right after the Opera. Right after she said goodbye.

"After my greatest performance, ever!" She shouted to the sky. Edward laughed, then handed her a peach slice.

They ate in silence. For the past two weeks, right after she told him about the baby, Edward had 'courted' her. Appeasing the press and making sure she was fed. Two birds with one stone. Meg ate the fruit silently, then fell back. They were on Edward's grounds, a pleasent little home-away-from-home he bought a little while back, about seven miles from the city.

"Race you home!" Meg shouted, leaping up and jumping astride the pale pelimino he loaned to her,.

"Wench!" He called out, then "CHEATER!"

Megs taunting laughter spurred him on, leaping on his great brown gelding.

Erik paced back and forth, his mind spinning, his hair a tangled mess. His clothes were dirty, sweaty and stunk, mainly because he had been forgoing the boat to swim the lake. The reason for that uncomfortable and cold past-time seemed to be missing.

Or like her mother said, 'Out'.

Damn her! Erik sent half the objects on his desk crashing to the ground in one swift and agitated movement. He swore to himself the night he taught her the solo would be the last. But her sweetness burned in his mind like a fever, the silk of her skin branded his flesh, the glorious rise of her body in his minds eye.

Driving him mad.

He overheard Madam Giry's tale, informing that Boy of a Viscount about his backround. He didn't care. He was so removed from that pitiful excuse for a creature that the distance was measured in decades. What he really cared about was Meg. She was getting close to that Fop, Edward.

Technically, he wasn't supposed to care. He was so close to having Christine he could taste it. Her innocence, her sweetness. Her lush mahogany hair and crystal blue eyes. Erik paused, wiping the stray thought that his preferences leaned more toward blonde and grey, before sitting at his Organ.

Music.

His only escape. His only peace.

He played a few cords of Don Juan, the soft sensual duet that represented Christine and his intimate 'aquaitence'. He tried to imagine the young flesh beneath him, her glorious voice rising in pitch.

All he could see was golden blonde hair spread beneath that DAMNABLE DUKE!

He stood with a harsh movement. Even in his one retreat had been poisoned by her. He saw red, imagining her, right now, joining with that English Fop, spread beneath him, moaning in pleasure. Erik bared his teeth, breathing heavily. His mind went beastial, he wanted nothing more than to rip that 'Pretty boy' up. Tear him to shreds and bathe in the blood. To kill him, destroy him utterly, then take Meg over and over until she understood completly who she belonged to.

Erik crouched into a fetal position, trying to keep himself in control. He was so torn! There were so many emotions, so much confusion.

He would see Christine. The sight and sound of her would keep him sane. She would ground him.

He went outside, skulking in the shadows and watched as his quarry payed a carraige.

Her father's grave? Hmmmmmm.

Meg was smiling. It was a soft smile, a true smile. Such an odd thing, as it was such a rare thing. Meg Giry hadn't smiled that happily and innocently since she was a child. She played with the soft baby blanket, an impossibly downy subdued yellow, feathered with fringe. She spread it acrossed her stomach, holding the note to her heart.

_'My Dearest Meg'_ it read _' throughout my life I have made many mistakes. The fall that broke my leg. Bringing Erik, but not teaching him about the world. Letting him grow thinking there was nothing but evil. But, my greatest mistake was my greates triumph. You shine like the stars, and I'll never regret giving anything up for you, my darling Meg. My Nutmeg. _

_Mother Giry'_

Meg wiped the tears from her eyes and stood, folding the blanket. She was tucking it into the trunk at the bottom of the bed when she heard it. Christine's tears, a now common occurance (Why, Meg wondered, did chorus girls go all Dramatic when they moved up in the world?) and Raouls angry words.

Unabashed, Meg listened through the keyhole for gossip. Well, she was a Ballet rat at heart, right?

"I'll not have it! That monster-" Raoul began

"Monsuier!" Andre cut in.

"He showed up while she was praying for her father!" His hissed, quieter. There was a pause then-

"What shall we do, Viscomte?" that was Firmin. A longer pause, when Meg thought naughty thoughts. They all went along the lines of how stupid and slow Raoul was, but then again, she was slightly biased.

"We, have all been blind. And yet the answer is staring us in the face. This will be the chance, to ensnare our clever friend!" Raoul began. Meg listened as he outlined his plan, her face growing pale. Then she scoffed.

"Yes, your a bloody genius." She hissed at Raoul, Edward's favored curse coming easily to her lips. "Lock the Homicidal Maniac in his own home, a labyrinth, with two hundred people he despises. Why not just strip Christine naked, put her on a platter and slide her down the stairs?"

Meg scoffed, then slid against the door, listening to Andre and Firmin talking.

"How will we know the Viscount can kill him?" Andre worried.

"Well, he gave him a slice to remember him by in the cemetary, isn't that what he said? Could've killed him too, were Christine not such a soft-hearted gel."

Meg gulped. He was hurt!

Meg found him, curled, bleeding and sopping wet at the edge of the lake. He was fevered, and delerious, calling out to her mother, Christine, cursing Raoul and strangly Edward. With a little help from him, Meg had him stripped naked, washed, filled with heated-over broth from the kitchens, and drugged.

"Can't have her. You can't have her." He hissed as she bound his wound. She worried her lip. The fever was burning itself out, but he was still mummbling about Christine.

"Hush, love." She whispered, smoothing his brow. She was unwilling to leave him, but practice was starting, and he was getting better quickly. She began the trip back, listening to his sleep-hushed ranting.

"She's mine. I love her. She's mine. Can't have her. Ever! She's mine!" Erik shouted, Meg slipping out of ear-shot. He relaxed a little, falling into sleep.

"My Nut-Meg."

((((((FIVE DAYS LATER)))))))

Erik watched through narrowed eyes as Piangi played out his Don Juan, the fool bumbling the part horrendously. No matter. When Meg's solo came on he would switch places with the idiot. He didn't quite know how he got inot bed, bandaged and cured, but he had a clue. His room smelled faintly of lillies.

Meg.

He was so close to finding something. He felt it. So close. It was the same with his music. He would wait for the appiffany, the shock of the subtle nuance that he missed before.

Before the piece could be completed. Before the Opera was over. It would click, he was certain. It always did. By god, it was killing him, this quiet play in his head. How would she react? Not Christine, oh no, he knew she would be shocked, but still do her part. She was like that. No, he was worried about Meg. She felt deeply for him, or at least thought she did. Sex, he scoffed, did not mean she loved him. It was a boost, considering it at least ment she found him attractive, but not love.

Meg fluttered onto the stage, and Erik cursed. He needed to get down ther immediently, to stop Piangi from entering-

but, damn. There was Don Juan...

... Wait a moment. Erik snarled and bared his teeth in a rage.

Meg entered, stage left, sliding and slinking acrossed the stage, not looking up, to pool at Piangi's feet. He lifted her with a bit more strength than rehersal, but no matter. Meg looked up, ready to fake a seductive look at the pig of a Baritone, but was stilled.

None other than Edward, Duke of Lasten stood before her, wearing Don Juan's costume.

"Oh no." She whispered.


	9. Possession, Stupid, and Answer

Before we continue, I have something to say. Whenever I write this story I listen to Sarah McLachlan. So, One day, I realized I made the Charactors like the songs. So, I have come to enlighten you. If you read the lyrics below, you'll know more about my charactors that I can ever write. The Songs influenced everything from their attitudes to their actions and I really hope you read them. Don't worry, there will be the story after them, but please read.

The Phantom Erik. Sarah McLachlan's Possession.

listen as the wind blows

from across the great divide

voices trapped in yearning

memories trapped in time

the night is my companion

and solitude my guide

would i spend forever here

and not be satisfied

and i would be the one

to hold you down

kiss you so hard

i'll take your breath away

and after i'd wipe away the tears

just close your eyes dear

through this world i've stumbled

so many times betrayed

trying to find a honest word

to find the truth enslaved

oh you speak to me in riddles

and you speak to me in rhyme

my body aches to breathe your breath

your words keep me alive

and i would be the one

to hold you down

kiss you so hard

i'll take your breath away

and after i'd wipe away the tears

just close your eyes dear

into this night i wander

it's morning that i dread

another day of knowing of

the path i fear to tread

oh into the sea of waking dreams

i follow without pride

nothing stands between us here

and i won't be denied

and i would be the one

to hold you down

kiss you so hard

i'll take your breath away

and after i'd wipe away the tears

just close your eyes dear

i'll hold you down

kiss you so hard

i'll take your breath away

and after i'd wipe away the tears

just close your eyes

Meg Giry Sarah McLachlan's Stupid

Night lift up the shades let in the brilliant light of morning

But steady me now for I am weak and starving for mercy

Sleep has left me alone to carry the weight of unraveling where we went wrong

And all I can do to hang on, to keep me from falling into old familiar shoes

How stupid could I be

a simpleton could see

that youre no good for me

but youre the only one I see

Love has made me a fool set me on fire and watched as I floundered

unable to speak except to cry out and wait for your answer

and you come around in your time speaking of fabulous places create

an oasis that dries up as soon as youre gone

you leave me here burning in this desert without you

How stupid could I be

a simpleton could see

that youre no good for me

but youre the only one I see

Everything changes everything falls apart

I cant stand to feel myself losing control

In the deep of my weakness I know

How stupid could I be

a simpleton could see

that youre no good for me

but youre the only one I see

Edward Of Laston Sarah McLachlan's Answer

I will be the answer at the end of the line

I will be there for you while you take the time

In the burning of uncertainty I will be your solid ground

I will hold the balance if you cant look down

If it takes my whole life I wont break I wont bend

Itll all be worth it worth it in the end

Cause I can only tell you what I know

that I need you in my life

When the stars have all gone out

youll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently into morning

For the night has been unkind

Take me to a place so holy

That I can wash this from my mind

The memory of choosing not to fight

If it takes a whole life I wont break I wont bend

Itll all be worth it worth it in the end

Cause I can only tell you what I know

That I need you in my life

And when the stars have all burned out

Youll still be burning so bright

Cast me gently into morning for the night has been unkind

And know you know why My renditions of the charactors are so sad. Hey, do you guys want a chapter dedicated, in the begining at least, to your reviews?

And now, what you have been waiting for!

"Don't worry my love." He hissed into her ear hurriedly. "Dance."

Meg began her dance, the solo that would lead into her duet with Don Juan. Edward, shockingly, moved perfectly, circling her with a foreign smirk on his lips. He WAS Don Juan. Edward must have hid a perfect acting career from her, he was terrific. She smiled, moving easier, teasing, tantalizing, a dance that she knew Erik had derived from her solitary performance in front of him, that night after Arabia. She slid into a low bow, folded onto the floor.

Edward stalked perfectly over to her, lifting her to stand, snapping her passionatly to his well-muscled chest. Hip to hip, he slipped a loving hand around the dip of her waist, to the small of her back. He gently bent her back, careful with her, as if she was supremly precious to him. He slid a hand between the valley of her breasts, but not like Erik. There was no froceful possesion, no branding. Just a mutual caring. To the audience, she supposed dazedly, it must look supremly sensual. She curved her thigh around his waist instictually, bringing her intimatly twined with him.

He swung her in a soft semi-circle, then brought her face-to-face with him, slipping a hand around he hip to caress her bottom gently. Meg's eyes went wide and she hid her laugh. Eyes twinkling merrily, Edward gave her a sharp pinch. Meg jumped, bringing her body in complete full contact with his. He twisted her round, her leg falling and she dragged her hands sensually down his chest. Edward's eyes blazed, filled with the warmth that Erik could only look at Christine with. Meg never lost contact with his green eyes as he slowly, reluctantly, moved away from her.

The dance was to end there, but Edward paused on his exit, turned to her, jerked her to her feet and kissed her.

Meg was shocked. He was kissing her! His mouth was sweet, demanding, nibbling gently on her lips, asking for entrance. She opened her mouth, instictually twining her arms around his neck. He kissed her with every bit of love, caring and devotion he had in him. Telling her, showing her, that she was desperetly needed. He parted from her softly, caressed her face gently, then left, walking with purpose off of the stage. Meg reached up and touched her lips, sinking down to her knees.

The curtains swung closed and there was a roar of clapping and whistles. Meg moved off the stage quickly.

Was it bad that she forgot about the whole acting part?

ERIK

Erik's breath was jerked sharply from out of his lungs, his throat burning, his eyes blazing. That little... Worm! That insignificant PEON! He stole his duet! And whats worse, he made it a balatant challenge. Kissing her! Puting his vile disgusting ENGLISH lips on His Meg's... puting his loathsome hands on His Meg's body.

'But she didn't seem to be angry.' A treacherous voice inside his head whispered softly.

'She was acting!' He hissed angrily to himself. He would prove it! His Meg desired no one but him! He turned, but the returning comment made him pause.

'Your Meg? Boy, you think too highly of yourself. She's not your Meg any longer.' an evil chuckle, filled with malicious humor. Erik was frozen. The Damnable voice inside his head was right, for once. She wasn't his Meg. She wanted to be, trying to force him at every turn to accept her. She wanted to be his and his alone, but he turned her away.

Erik slipped to the floor, eyes wide. The taunting revelation was there, just out of sight. The one that plagued him for months, just beyond his line of sight, just out of reach. If only he could SEE it.

His Meg had given up on him. She tried and tried, but finally gave in to that Damnable Duke. And why would she wait for him? He made it perfectly clear when he taught her the solo. He was the one who ended the affair. She was finally moving on.

His entire body began aching, his heart beat too fast, sweat broke out on his brow. He had to... had to... do something. Anything. His mind was a jumble of confusion. He was going to laugh, to cry, to scream, to sob, any minute now he would burst into a million different pieces.

The slight strains of his Opera drifted up to him.

"Passarino faithful friend-" Piangi, the dim-wit, missed his que and was speeding the lines.

Erik's eyes narrowed, terrifyingly void of all emotion. He stood, straightened his cloak, and walked to were Piangi would exit to.

MEG'S POV)

Meg's breath caught in her throat.

He was here.

Stalking closer to the surprised Christine, the Phantom of the Opera sang out in a voice that had the women (And some of the Men) in the audience swooning in desire. The black mask brought to mind the savage Pirate Lover she called her own for a few brief hours. Darker, sensual. He moved like a cat, sacastic and smug, around his willing prey. Christine did nothing to discourage him, staring at him in some kind of misguided wonder.

When his solo finished she glanced up at Raoul, than began singing. Her voice was high and beautiful, but obviously (At least to Megs ears) not for the seductive tone and innuendo that riddled the aria. She moved with grace, delicate and supremly beautiful. Meg sobbed, giving up, finally, in her mind. Erik was just out of her reach.

Edward pulled her into his embrace, muffling her tears in his copy of Don Juan's costume.

ERIK

Erik watched as his voice weaved its unearthly magic around Christine, and was slightly shocked that she actually sung back, just as dangerously as he. They scaled the grappling, walked acrossed the catwalk, and into each others arms. Glancing around he found the Damned Duke holding Meg tightly. Just as his gaze met the vivid green of Edwards, Meg turned. Her blue-grey eyes locked on his face...

... Just as Christine tore off his mask.

His deformity lay open, but he was immune to the gasps, screams and cries of terror. His eyes were bound to Meg's. Emotion flashed in her gaze, but to her credit she only paled when confronted with the monster behind the mask.

Six inches, between his right-side's chin and hairline was dead flesh. Pale grey, veined lightly with dark blue veins. His eye was slightly sunken in, the eyebrow nothing but a demonic ridge. Half an inch, all around the deformity was perfect peach, as if someone took a knife and carved off just the upper layers of skin and painstakingly pealed them off. His nose was just a bone, with a few layers of dead-like skin hanging on faithfully. His eye was wider than the other, his eye lids pulled further back.

The Devil's Child, marked and open for all to see. Half dead, half alive and all sin.

With a cry, Edward pulled Meg around to 'save' her innocent eyes from the monstrocity and Erik glared directly at Edward. The Duke glared right back, a propetorial arm holding Meg close. Erik's eyes went wide as Edward pulled Meg away. Hissing angrily, he pulled his rapier and sliced the mechanism to release the trap door. Christine leaped onto him and Erik silently pulled his arms around her.He watched as Meg was dragged away by the handesome Duke, the inner voice that had taunted him so suddenly and inexplicably silent. Erik looked down at the bundle of fragile woomanhood in his arms.

Time to claim his bride.

Strangly, he thought of Meg.

MEG

"Edward!" Meg finally cried out, pulling on her arm. He paused in his flight, studying her expression. His entire face collapsed, tears pooling his vivid green eyes.

"If this is... truly what you want." He whispered softly. Edward caressed her hand, then kissed her gently on the lips before dissapearing into the paniced crowd.

Time to claim her one true love.


	10. Goddamned Sheperdess

Okay, well, its winding down... Still thinking of killing off Meg. Maybe she might be saved if I had more reviews...

Dangles Meg over boiling cauldren

Well, well, well, how to do it...

On with the show!

Erik kept a tight, bruising grip on Christine's wrist, dragging the girl through the maze. He looked back at her terrified face, her eyes pooling in tears. He could hear the mob above, gathering weapons and courage as the Opera filled with heat and flames.

As if scoffing at the blaze, he remained cool. Cold and distance, snarling, savage, scathing remarks as he jerked Christine into the boat. He was immune to her tears, immune to the soft whimper. Mocking her in his mind for such softness. When they reached the other side, he pulled her out, uncaring of the bruises on her luminescent skin, actually dragging her practically by the hair to the gown.

"Get dressed." He hissed, then, bowing mockingly. "Our wedding night is at hand."

MEG

It was burning. Her entire life, her entire childhood. All those memories, becoming nothing more than ash. Her career, her life, her livelihood. Crimson curtains crumbled, fire licked at the blind statues, charring them black. A large group of people stood out side, watching it burn. An even larger helped to try and douse the flames. Still another lugged props, scenes and costumes out.

Meg gave a dry laugh. At least someone was trying to save some of it.

Tossing the golden curls over her shoulder, she spotted her mother.

"Where did He take her?' Raoul snarled, grasping her mother's upper arm. Giving her darling daughter a pitying glance, Madam Giry pulled him along.

"Come with me, Monsuier. But remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes." She gasped out, coughing from the smoke.

"I'll come with you!" Meg said suddenly, but Madam Giry pushed her back.

"No, Nutmeg. You must stay here!"

"NO!" Meg cried out futily, but her mother and that Damned Viscomte had dissappeared Yes, she is starting to think like the Phantom She stopped a large group of very dangerous looking men from following, instead directing them to dousing the fire. Meg looked around, but everywhere she went, people followed, as if she were and goddamned shepardess!


	11. Love me Please?

A/N: There once was a man from the Cape.

Who made himself garments of Crape

When asked 'Would the tear?'

He replied 'Here and there-

but they keep such a beautiful shape!'

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise, unless I do.

She knew immediently it was him. Her dark, dangerous, Murderous Angel. His voice sent shivers down her spine, possessing her, sending waves of tingles down her body. When her eyes met his, she was irrevocably drawn to the darkness; the blank, evil eyes. Gone was the man who cried when she took his mask off, in his place a God. No, a Demon who had come to take what was rightfully his.

She tried to break the spell her Angel was weaving by meeting Raouls trusting gaze. All that did was bring to mind sharply what she chose over this Man. A childish fantasy; a way to escape the passion that truly frightened her. Idyly she remembered that she never exactly said she loved him. Never told Raoul, in plain language, that she loved him. She asked for his love, asked him to share a lifetime and a love, but never said THOSE words.

And suddenly it didn't matter anymore, because He was touching her. Her entire body came alive, yearning for something that lie beneath her skin, burning to be released. Hinted as a pale shadow in the brief, sweet kiss of her fiance, seductivly obvious in Her Angels every move, touch and word. She flowed with him, reveling in his touch in the most wanton way, dipping and swaying like Meg with that strange man only minutes ago. Or was it hours? Days perhaps? She didn't know. All that she did know was her Angel, her Maestro was touching her, playing her like his music. Making her dark, making her need him, want him.

Half-way through, she realized what she looked like.

Nothing more than a trollop. A whore who went through men like Carlotta went through puppies. Pledging her body, mind and soul to one man, then practically giving herself to another. And on Stage! With almost a hundred people, watching. Her gaze scanned the audience. She realized, almost dazedly, that she was on the upper catwalk, with the Phantom behind her, caressing her. She closed her eyes breifly, fighting the power of his caress.

When she opened them, she locked gaze with Raoul.

He was crying! Her knight in shining armor was sitting there, crying.

A wave of loathing surfaced in her mind so sharp and fast it brought bile to her lips. She hated Herself for her weakness, hated Raoul for starting all this. But most of all, she hated Him. Hated The Phantom of the Opera. Hated him for bringing this Need, this disgusting Want awake inside her, making passion's flower blossom in her breast, making her mind and body and heart fight against one another like animals. Making her so confused.

In retaliation for his supposed sins, she lifted her hand and ripped off his mask. She felt a sick sort of pride, a smug saticfaction for bringing the shock and sadness into his gaze. Then the audience's screaming brought her out of her daze and she tried to take a step back, to gather her confusing and conflicting thoughts, but a strong arm snapped around and she was suddenly free falling through the air.

"Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust of blood? Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh!" Christine cried out, the wedding dress that conformed snugly to her form mocking her in its purity. The Phantom turned, his eyes blazing oddly. He took in her outfit, the dress he forced on her not minutes before, and smiled in satisfaction.

"That fate, which condems me to wallow in blood, has also denied me the joys of the flesh... but not for long my bride." He hissed in her ear, having reduced the distance between them in a few strides. He felt her head tilt back, her body shiver. She wanted him that was obvious, but the little chit was confused because of the lies that spilt like blood from her precious Viscomte's perfect lips.

Most likly like the love sonnets that would now be spilling from the Goddamned Duke's lips as he proposed to His MEG! Erik snarled and pushed the stunning suprano from him, stalking over and clearing the nearest desk with a swift, angry movement of his hands. His breath wooshed out of him in sharp bursts and he reigned in his temper. Why, oh WHY! Why couldn't he get His Aphrodite from his mind? Why couldn't he just love Christine?

Erik froze. The pieces clicked. The Opera was finished, the song finally completed. He straightened, eyes wide.

He loved Meg.

... Then what in the blazes was he doing down here with this childish, temper-tantrum throwing, ducedly confused little GIRL! Erik turned abruptly and suddenly, The Phantom of the Opera, The Angel of Music, The Angel of Death, Erik, was very, very, embarrassed.

This was unacceptable! He was so blind, so stupid... and now embarrassed! HE had never been embarrassed in his entire life! Never! He chuckled softly.

Trust Meg, love of his life, to bring out the worst in him.

Now, on to the problem.

How to get rid of Christine quickly, before he had to actually kill the Goddamned Duke for touching His Bride.

Splashing water brought his attention to... the Knight in Shinning armor! Perfect timing.

"Good, our guest has arrived. Viscomte." Erik bowed low, mockingly.

"Let her go." Raoul hissed, pressed against the grating of the portcullis. Erik Shrugged.

"Alright... but there are a few conditions." He briefly studied his nails as if he were talking of the weater, ignoring Christine's gasp of outrage. Raoul looked at him confusedly.

"Name them."

"Leave, and never speak of this to anyone. Also, repair the Opera. I can't see my mistress lie in ruin forever." Erik moved about, almost skipping to collect to blueprints. He restrainted himself, idyly wondering how he staying on the ground instead of floating away, his burdon gone, his mind clear. Besides, skipping and dancing a merry jig was hardly Phantom-like traits.

"You don't love me?" Christine asked softly, sounding unnervingly like a child. Erik met her gaze, her confusion and... was she pouting! Good god, what a selfish little chit! Now that he wasn't fighting for her, she wanted him. Erik shook his head and in his mind gave Raoul the best of luck keeping her.

"Of course I love you. But I have realized, because of another, "Erik smiled softly, thinking of Meg. "That it is more of a fatherly devotion."

He turned, so there fore missed Raouls look of realization but he didn't miss his soft laugh. Erik met Raouls gaze and then both men shared a smile of understanding. Erik flipped up the portcullis switch. Raoul walked in and wrapped him arms around Christine. Christine shrugged the embrace away.

"You love somone else?" She asked, her voice even softer.

"Christine?" Raoul called. Erik realized she was directly behind him. He turned and met her feverish gaze.

"Yes, I love Meg. Christine... are you alright?" He studied her unnaturally blazing eyes.

"But... you love me... you have too." Her voice and eyes were pleading. Erik shook his head softly. It appeared Christine had lost her mind. She grabbed his arm tightly when he went to turn.

"Christine!" Raoul's voice was sharpened with worry. Erik disentangled the distraught girl's fingers from his lapel.

"I can't love you anymore Christine... I love Meg." Erik smiled softer, then turned back to Raoul. "Here are blueprints for a better Opera House... I dearly hope we never meet again."

"YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME!" Christine shouted, interupting the laugh shared between Raoul and Erik.

"NO! CHRISTINE!" Raoul saw it before Erik.

The glint of the Dagger he gave her to protect herself from Erik. Erik's eyes widened as she lifted the dagger above her head, her feverish eyes blazing, breath gasping out. A wicked smile crossed her lips.

"Love me forever?" She asked sweetly, before bringing the sharp blade down.

"No!" Raoul cried out. Erik's mind froze.

"Meg." He whispered before he fell to the floor.

It was four hours before Meg found her way down to the seventh layer. Four hours, of dousing flames, comforting loved ones, securing exits and saving the opera. Four hours of agony and trepidation eating away at her insides, wondering if Erik was okay, if Christine was alright... if they were together? Did Raoul succeed in his quest? Was Erik dead.

Her train of thought stopped as she reached the Music Bedroom. There was his mask... gleaming whitely in the dim light.

And right next to it, a trail of blood leading to the lake and the missing boat.


	12. Authors note

I just was inspired! No, sorry to say there is no chapter in this chapter, but there is some nifty info.

Yes, I do love teasing you.

Okay, to reviewers who give me their e-mails (Actually give them, no 'look in my profile shit') I will make a specific 'Chapter'. I'll only send it to people who review, with their emails. But here's the catch, you gotta tell me what you want.

Is it a sex scene (God I hope so, if not, why am I on this site!)

Has to be sometime in the infamous three months.

Arabia?

Want details on the Pirate love scene?

Want a completly new scene? Where?

Its gonna involve Meg and Erik, of course, and it wont mess with the plot line (Dear god! I have a Plot!) But it will be steamy, sexy and NICE!

... Or at least I hope so... I havn't written it yet.

See? No black mail! Just an incentive Program. Remember, gimme your email and what you want the chapter to be about and I'll send it to you! Im not gonna make a bunch of them... so I have to choose on scene. Get your vote in, operators are standing by! I'll wait for at least one more day before I write it, then send it out.

Want the chapter? REVIEW! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA

And no, you get no new chapter yet... I havn't even BEGUN writing it!

KUDOS TO STEPH FOR THINKING OF IT!


	13. A marraige to the wrong man while the Ri...

Hello Lads and Lasses. This be Red. Not the color mind you, but-

Gimme the Keyboard!

MMMMHP!

Hush Hollilia. A beauteous girl appears, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, absently kicking the bound and gagged Hollilia on the floor. Red, standing beside her hands her a intricate keyboard

Steph We appologize for any inconvienience that this little chit may have heaped upon you Another kick to the squirming mass of Authorness on the floor. But the Show WILL go on.

NOOO! Hollilia had removed the gag and screamed. Steph narrowed her eyes and leaned really close to Hollilia's ear.

Steph If not, your PotO soundtrack and PotC posters and prints will mysterously dissappear.

Hollilia You wouldn't! Steph raises her eyebrows and smiles mockingly.

Hollilia, aghast You would!

Steph I do not obsess over Handsome men and gorgeous Bishounen. I enjoy the view and move on.

Hollilia, meekly I obssess. Hell, My e-mail is turning to the readers As I said, I appologize, and so does She and she-Another kick

Hollilia Ouch.

Steph -will continue on with the story.

Hollilia, whiney But Im not Inspired! Pouts

Steph Reels around eyes blazing, skin flushed and points to a pile of jack Sparrow, Phantom of the Opera and Orlando Bloom things, Red holding a match right above them.

Hollilia, eyes wide Then again, we writers can, if motivated correctly, make our own inspiration.

Steph Good. Here Unties Hollilias arms, but not her legs, then reties her arms to the keyboard so she has just enough space to move about to write. Hollilia glares

Hollilia, then, meekly On with the show?

Steph Good Girl.

Meg was numb. Her blood rushed in her ears, her vision was fuzzy, her mind winging like a butterfly, touching on things, but not exactly staying still long enough for anything to make an impact. She watched as if a spectator to her life as she was brought out of the underground lair by a few kind sage-hands. She watched, with disinterested unattachment, the vague thought of 'Poor, unfortunate girl' wandering through her blank mind ocasionally, but nothing concrete. She was guided past smolder, sopping wet curtains, the ruins of the set, a few stragglers watching the men put out the last of the blaze, weeping ballerinas, teary-eyed managers (The two were crying for the lost profit) and into a rather well-of carraige. She settled in, keeping blank eyes ahead.

"Meg?" Steph asked, laying her hand on the girls shoulder. Meg turned empty eyes to her.

"Yes, Lady Stephanie?" She asked in a monotone. Another woman acrossed from Meg gave an unlady-like snort.

"Well thats enough of THAT crap." Holly said easily, bringing back her hand and delivering a sharp stinging slap to Meg's pasty face. Meg froze, one hand on her cheek, which warmed ferverishly under her cheek. Her face flushed, her eyes blazed and she leapt acrossed the carraige,. attacking Holly with bared teeth and flashing eyes.

"Whoah!" Edward, sitting next to Holly, pulled the screaming woman off said girl. Meg struggled for a brief moment, getting in a few good punches on the his unresisting body, but in the end collapsed against him, sobbing madly.

"Do you think shes..." Steph began slowly.

"Cu-koo? Insane? Lost her marbles? In a word, yes." Holly put in, watching the emotional wreck next to her with something akin to disgust for the emotion and a respect for the fight she put up. It was an odd combination. All in all, Holly didn't like it.

"You do realize that was unnessisarily cruel Holly." Steph said, giving Holly a wry look. Holly shrugged.

"Have to be cruel to be kind." Was her unabashed answer. Meg's sobbed had subsided into soft hiccups.

"Are you... always like this?" ANother girl, a rather pretty sandy-blonde haired ballerina, still in her training outfit (A set of all pink leatard, tights, shoes, and tulle skirt) asked, crystilline green eyes wide and just a little fightened.

"Don't worry Chasity my girl!" Holly said cheerfully. "It gets more exciting later on!"

Later on

The next day, after spilling her soul to Holly, Stephanie, Edward, and a wide-eyed Chasity and another crying bout, Meg was dressed and freshly scrubbed and just a little acustom to her situation. She was sitting, hands gently caressing her slightly swelling abdomn, listening to Stephanie, Edward and Chasity argue about what color paint would look good in the Baby's room while Holly entertained herself with gagging motions whenever Pink was mentioned.

"I still say we should go with a beautiful shell pink (Holly gagged loudly) " Edward insisted.

"But what if the baby's a Boy?" Steph asked quickly. Edward shrugged.

"He'll get in touch with his feminine side." The room broke into guffaws, even Holly gave a grudging smile.

"What about butter yellow, sunny and bright?" Chasity asked, half to every-body, half to Meg. Meg pondered this.

"I've got it!" This was Holly, standing up with her apiphiny. All eyes were drwan to her. She paused, looking a little spooked that EVERYONE was watching her.

"Well?"

"...lost it." She replied meekly, curling back up into a ball in her chair. They shook thier heads and began arguing again, as Meg laughed at Holly.

"I still say a wonderful shade of aqua-marine!" Steph insisted.

"Shell-pink!"

"Yellow!"

"Aqua-Marine!"

"Shell pink!"

"Yellow!"

"Um... how about we just paint pictures?" Holly slid in, still curled up in a defenceful ball. Everyonepaused.

"It could be the sea." Steph said, a little hesitantly.

"Oh! At sunrise!" Chasity added.

"With a beautiful mix of orange, pink (Holly gagged) red and yellow!" Edward, catching on, added, giving a special smile to Chasity, who blushed.

"And on the other side," Meg began and everyone fell silent watching her far-off gaze " The night, dark and deep, with the white moon, in the middle slowly recceding from the bright light of day."

Everyone was stunned. Meg hadn't said anything since she explained what she found in the lair. In their minds they painted a similar picture of what she was describing.

"Beautiful." Edward whispered.

"She's good." Holly said, watching the misty-eyed ballerina. Said ballerina nodded, wiping the tears away. Edward handed her a kerchief.

"Thank you." Chasity said.

"Well." Holly said louder, disrupting the silence. "Lets call an artist!"

"I think..." Meg trailed off "I htink I might...perhaps...go lay down."

"Well, it is late. Let me escort you to bed." Edward stood and helped Meg through the door, Chasity falling behind. Holly looked at Stephanie with a knowing glance.

"Don't meddle Holly." Steph warned.

"But its what I do best!"

In a darkened room, that very same night, a shadow slipped into her room. She sat up, her heart sparking with hope. But no, it was only...

"Duke Edward?" She asked.

"Yes... it is I" He stood, fidgeting at the bottom of her bed. She lifted the covers up the her creamy shoulders, cocking her head to one side, she appraised his mussed appearence.

"Did you not sleep?" She asked.

"No, I..." Edward came around and kneeled at the side of her bed.

"Edward-" She began, her eyes wide.

"Listen to me first." He pressed a finger to her lips. "I know your all alone. I know you want to give your children a good home. I know this is sudden, but we're in the same fix... and I think... I think I love you more than anything I have every loved before. Please, Please marry me."

"Edward..." Her eyes filled with tears even in the completly shadowed roomhe could see. Her hair gleamed with a golden hue, eyes bright.

"Please?" His own eyes tears, pleading with her. "Please marry me. Please."

"I-" a hitch in her throat prevented speech, but to his awe-filled eyes, she nodded jerkily.

"Really?"

"Yes, Duke Edward. I will marry you."

Erik, looking into the shadowed room, watched the golden head dip as she was embraced by that DAMNABLE DUKE! His breathing erratic, he clenched his good hand, the other, (His right hand) in a sling. A spot of blood grew on the badages as his breathing sped up. He was standing outside the mansion, hand piosed to knock, watching the second-story window as that insignifigant Duke lit a candle and began undressing the woman...HIS woman, on the bed. He saw the girl turn her head, and even in the dim light, acrossed the courtyard and up two stories he could see her eyes widen in recognition...before she lifted her hand and motioned the Edward. The duke slowly pulled the curtains down, closing out the Phantom outside.

Erik dropped his hand from its knocking position and stalked away into the night.


	14. Blah Blah Blah

A/N And the world kept turning, kept moving. Not in any specific direction, but just going, because thats what the world does.

"Do you, Duke Edward of Lasten, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife. To have her and hold her, in sickness and in health til death do you part?" The pope-dressed priest asked the handsomely dressed man standing stauchly beside the beautiful bride.

"I do." He said without premable. The Priest nodded, then turned to the bride.

"Stephanie-" a hushed voice began, blocking out the ceremony.

"Don't start Holly." Steph hissed

"-and do you take him for your lawfully wedded husband-"

"But this is wrong!" Holly clenched her fist and Steph gave her a glare.

"Stop it. It was her decision." Steph slapped the tightly gripped hand.

"-in sickness and in health as long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"If any man has good reason to stop this wedding let him speak now, or forever hold his peace." He looked about and waited the full two minutes required. "If there are no objections-"

"I object!" Holly stood. The congregation turned to her.

"No, she doesn't." Steph pulled her down. "Please continue."

"Very well. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

There was a flurry of sweet kisses behind the mesh of the veil before the two were carried away on the sea of people, out into a bedecked carraige.

"Shouldn't have happened that way." Holly protested weakly to no one.

(Later)

Edward pressed the new Mrs. Of Lasten Robin hood, men in tights WHOOP! to the soft down bed, kissing her softly. He began undoing his cravat when a knock sounded on the door. He rolled his eyes.

"Probably Holly." He whispered. She giggled, removing her veil and leaning over to douse the light by the bedside. The other light, in Edward's hand, was dimmed as he stepped into the hallway. A loud crack, then a thump followed.

"Edward!" She called alarmed. The light returned, only to be slowly dimmed until it was completly out. She giggled, playing along. He came closer, the bed leaning to his side as he crawled on. He easily captured her wrists in a surprisingly strong grip, pressing her to the bed.

She frowned, as a body, heavier than her husbands weighted on her.

"Edward?" She whispered softly, frightened.

A familier laugh jeered from above her as the sweet smell of brandy wafted to her nose.

"Ah, ah, ah My Meg. Your dearest husband lies beyond the threshold...now who to take the conjugal rights, huh? Seems Im the man for the job." Erik whispered, holding her wrists with one hand, and ripping off his own cravat. The girl beneath him let out a piercing scream and Erik frowned.

"Get off me!" She screeched.

"What the devil?" He whispered to himself and, after straddling her, turned up the lamp beside him. A pretty girl with mousy brown and and sun-kissed golden highlights lay under him. She looked vaguely familiar. She was the ballerina from the Opera! The American one! Erik froze, debating what to do next.

The desition was taken from him.

"Erik?"

He turned and watched Meg, who had arrived to help out the owner of such a powerful scream, as her eyes widened and she fainted.

"Meg!" He let go of the girl's hands underneath him.

Bad Idea.

She began slashing at him with cat-like claws, letting out a banshee wail. Erik tried to dodge, capture or stop the blows raining down on his person, but she was quick as a cat. One good shot made four scatch marks acrossed his good side, another writhe from her legs hit him in a very tender spot.

Seeing purple spots flutter over his vision, Erik toppled over.

Right onto the girl (Supposedly trying to Help the ballerina under him) who was beside the bed, dragging the banshee-cat-Woman with him. They ended up in a tangle of wedding-gown, cloak, sheets, and limbs, Erik solidly landing on the second girl, his 'captive', the first, wedged between his and the second girl's legs. Just then, Erik's sub-concious gave up its fight with the alcohal in his blood and Erik passed out.

"Holly? There has to be five unconcious people here!" Steph wailed, seeing the mess. Holly, wedged under a specific Phantom, gave her an unconfortable smile.

"Well, when your popular."

It took ten minutes to pull Erik, Chasity, and Holly out of the mess, the fact that Chasity was inconsolibly weeping and Erik unconcious made the task harder. Meg was dragged to the bed and propped up because of her particular 'ailment.' Mainly being pregnant. Edward, half-concious at that time was escorted down-stairs for a well-deserved drink and Chasity ran off to an anounomous room to weep that she was ruined and a 'soiled dove'.

In four hours time everyone, excluding Meg and Chasity, were in the library. Edward and Erik glared at one another, while Holly watched cheerfully and Stephanie served tea.

"So... Phantom of the Opera I presume?" Stephanie asked easily, pulling out the cups.

"Yes. Erik, if you will." He replied tersly. "Now were is my Meg?"

"She is not yours, your needn't be here." Edward said through clenched teeth. Erik turned to him, a dark wrath gleaming in his eyes. His fingers twitched a hairsbreath from his rapier's handle.

"You! This wouldn't have happened if not for you." Erik hissed back.

"What all wouldn't have happened? You, raping my bride?" Edward shouted, all manners gone. Holly raised a finger.

"Technically she's your wife. Its past midnight." She added helpfully. Edward glared at her.

"Thank you." He said stauchly, eyes narrowed.

"Meg is MY bride and you cannot have her!" Erik returned his voice soft and velvety. Holly visably shuddered at the menace and Steph gulped.

"Why would I want her!" Edward stood, throwing his hands up in the air.

"So you think she's not good enough for a 'Duke?" Erik sneered the word like a curse.

"No!"

"You think because she's shared a monster's bed she's not worth of you?"

"Of course not. Your twisting my words! She's the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life time up until a few days ago! Her preganancy doesn't matter to me!" Edward dropped his hands abruptly and paused. Erik froze also, searching the guilty faces in the room.

"She's...pregnant?"

"Listen, Chasity is my wife, not Meg. Meg told me she would never marry." Edward finished quickly. Before racing out of the room.

"Edward!" Meg gasped as he rushed by her up the stairs, calling out for Chasity. She frowned, then continued down the stairs. The library doors were open and she walked in, seeing Holly and Steph. She smiled.

"Hi!" Holly was overly cheerful and suddenly Meg was suspicious.

"Whats wrong?"

"Hello, my dearest, miss me?" A achingly familiar voice spiting the endearment out like a curse asked. "And how... my dove, is our bundle of joy?"

Meg turned to stare at Erik's lounging form, splayed over the nearest chair. The door closed swiftly behind Holly and Steph as they escaped and Meg briefly entertained the notion of going with them.

"Don't even think about it. We need, to talk."

"I was afraid you say that." Meg whispered, hand automatically going o her abdomen.


	15. Just Breathe

Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise.

"Erik, I can explain-" Meg began, backing away as the lounging form in fornt of her stood with an abrupt motion.

"I certainly hope you can, my Dove." He backed her against the loveseat behind them, until her knees hit the seat. She tried to go back further, but only ended up landing on her bottom on the cushy seat. He then stalked over to his chair, his movements belying his tension. After seating himself comfortably, most likly trying to calm down, he motioned a hand. "Well? Explain."

"Where should I begin?" She asked tentativly. Erik paused.

"The begining my Meg." he answered. Meg bit her lip.

"It was about a year after we first met. I came down for my lesson, per usual. "Meg's eyes went out of focas as she remembered. "I was so excited, Madam Giry had given me a supporting role, we both know she never favored me in the ballet. Didn't want it too look as if she was playing favorites. I remember the rooms and halls were dark, usually you would at least leave me a torch to find my way easier. I wasn't frightened, just a little worried about you. I remember turning the last corner, and the hall opened abruptly into a huge natural Opera dome. The moment I stepped in I saw you. You were bent over your work, unconsciously rocking to the music only you could here. Your hair was a mess. Sticking out of its que, falling in your face. Occasionally you would reach out to play a few notes on the organ next to you, such sweet music I never heard before. You were half undressed, your shirt opened all the way to your navel. You turned to me after about half an hour, so wrapped up in your musci you didn't even hear me. You gave me a tired half smile and I just knew."

"Knew what?" Eriks voice was hushed, as if awed by the description. Meg met his eyes.

"Knew i was in love with you." She hurried along before he could interupt. "Not like the passionate, obsession you have for Christine. There were no fireworks, no explosions. It just all fit together. Like a missing puzzle piece."

"The one note that makes the Opera complete. " Erik whispered under his breath. Meg seemed not to hear him.

"Ever since then I tried to keep it hidden. It hurt so much to see you loving Christine so plainly. Then we kissed and... it was complete. Everything I'd ever wanted was in that kiss. In England, when you refused my kiss later, it felt like I died. Your kiss was like air and I couldn't breath without it. But I knew, I knew you would still want Christine." Meg's breath hitched and sped up. "I knew even though you were lying with me, you were thinking of her. So I thought it would be easier to let you go when you did eventually choose her. When you cast me aside."

"Meg-"

"But it wasn't!" The words were ripped from her core. "It hurt even worse. And to see you and Christine on the stage that night... it was like you belonged together. Soulmates. Not just the 'itch that needed scratching'. After Christine took off the mask and you dissappeared, Edward dragged me away and then I knew... I couldn't leave you. I tried to get back, but I couldn't. Maman took Raoul to you, and I was so scared you would die. When I finally did get down there-"

Her breath hitched as she stared sightlessly at the carpet, Erik watching her with unblinking eyes.

"-When I finally got down there you were long gone. And there was red all over the floor. It looked so much like blood...so much like you died. All I remember is beating the crap out of Holly" Meg smiled a little. "And then Edward's and Chasity's wedding. I havn't had anytime to think, anytime to process any of this... and everytime I try I can't stop crying."

She fell silent, her palm cradling the almost invisable swell of her baby. There was a few moments where they were both silent, Meg waiting for the derisive snort, the sarcastic smug smile, the laugh. None came. She finally raised her eyes, only to find Erik two feet from her, staring out the window into the night.

"Mine will be more brief." Erik said softly, then turned to her and kneeled at her feet, cupping her chin in one hand. "I am a stubborn, careless, cruel monster. I'm thick-headed and a murderer. I violated you, chased you and claimed you. I set my seed in your womb, without care or protection. After all this, you have been nothing but kind, sweet and extremly alluring."

Meg laughed a little at his wry smile.

"And I have only just realized That I, The Phantom of the Opera, Love little NutMeg Giry." He stopped her from saying anything with a gentle finger on her lips. "and niether God above, or the demons from the pit will ever take that away."

Meg's crumbling wall of self-restrait dissolved instantly and with a sob she threw herself into his arms. Erik gave a choked laugh and caught her, eyes slowly closing to enjoy the warmth weight of the one in he truly loved in his arms. He absorbed the sobs that racked her frame, petting her golden halo with reverence that surprised him. With a laugh he spun her about, inciting a squeel of glee from the bundle in his arms. Erik gently set her down, eyes locking with hers. Then sliding down to the perfect cupid's bow of her lips.

She slowly lifted up, watching him as he bent down. They paused, a hairsbreadth away...

Before Erik cocked an eye brow, and then swooped down, capturing her lips in a possessive, mind-blowing kiss. Meg let out a little laugh, then melted into the kiss. He bent her back a little, following the curve of her waist with one hand until he reached the barely noticable swell of her abdomen. Meg wrapped her arms around his neck-

and finally was able to breath.


	16. THE WEDDING! At last

I do not own phantom of the opera, nor any of the characters therein.

So, I was puttingering around and actualy logged into my account. As I previewed i suddenly realized I had never posted the final chapter on this! OO OMFG!! Its been years!

...scatterbrain, sorry.

At long last... THE EPILOGUE!!

The bride was blushing, delicate, sweet and beautiful in her gown of sweeping pure white. It was a princess gown, sprinkled with gorgeous crystallites, pearls and lace, creating a frothy confection that pronounced the bride's high rosy cheeks and pure complexion. Her swan-like neck was roped in just enough pearls, a beautiful blue sapphire in the center. The gown was off the shoulder, revealing a hint of the pressing mounds of her cleavage, and contrasting perfectly with her lush, strawberry lips.

All in all, Meg, sitting eight months pregnant beside her, hated Christine Dae with a fierce passion at the time. Oh, sure, she was happy about the wedding and all, but seriously, who could be that damnably delicate in a gown thrice their size? Meg glared her down, but when the innocent beauty's gaze turned to her gave a sweet forced smile. Damn that little tart for being so... THIN! Meg sighed. Damn Erik for making her so BIG!

In fact... Meg sought him out of the crowd, finally finding the white masked figure up on the balcony. He was dressed in a black and white ensemble, but that wasn't a very big change. Her entire being suddenly tensed as his gaze trained on Christine with such love. For a moment she faltered, shocked.

Then he met her gaze and the love intensified a thousand fold. Such heat and power in his gaze, a possession that raked her from head to toe and left her shaking in desire. He lingered with obvious relish on the prominent mound of her baby and grinned wickedly at her. A movement near his waist caught her attention and she gasped softly.

A miniature phantom, decked out in the exact replica of Erik's outfit except for the golden curls pulled back on his head leaned over to waved wildly at her, then looked up at Erik sheepishly. Beside him, a little girl glared haughtily, raven curls gleaming and gray eyes disdainful. Meg shook her head and politely turned to Christine.

How the Opera Singer managed a four year engagement Meg would never guess. The wedding continued and ended in a picture perfect princess way, with Raoul claiming his bride. After the traditions had been sated, Meg excused herself and went to find her husband.

Meg held out her hands for Erik to capture, which he did, and pulled her close. He kissed her neck gently and moved a hand to touch her burgeoning belly.

"It seems my son gets in the way of his father's intentions." He said softly. Meg laughed.

"My daughter knows how to keep her father at a distance." Meg replied sweetly. Erik narrowed his eyes and went to open his mouth when Chasity and Edward came up, a little golden curled three year old girl beside them.

"Finally huh? You'd think Mrs. De Chagney ment to live her life a fiancée rather than a wife for the length this has gone on!" Edward laughed, Chasity giggled. Meg gave each a short hug, tugging the mini phantom and his sister into sight.

"Elisabeth, Sabastion, say hello to your god-mother and Charlene." She commanded. Elisabeth procured a perfect curtsy smiling sweetly. Charlene grimaced at her, then went wide eyed when Sabastion bowed low.

"I can't believe it. Twins. Doubly cursed, eh?" Edward wondered, looking up at Erik. The Phantom of the Opera gave a low suffering sigh.

"Oh, of course not!" Chasity exclaimed, plucking up Sabastion and displacing the mask revealing all the peachy skin underneath. "Double blessed! I can only wish for twins!"

"Ah, it would truly be funny if you happened to have another set this time-" Edward began, only to be silenced by a death glare from Erik.

"Never say that. I love my children, but two babies crying all night is not what I want to look forward to." He hissed, then gave Meg a hug. "Besides, we were hoping for a boy."

"Girl." Meg quickly intercepted. Erik inclined his head.

"We shall see."

ONE MONTH LATER

"Its a Boy!" Came the shout of the midwife from Meg's room. Erik smiled triumphantly.

"... oh my... and a girl!"

Erik groaned.

"...and another boy! Oh dear!"

Erik, eyes wide, reached trembling hands for the brandy decanter.

FIN


End file.
